


Calypso's Sea Lioness | Part I

by forhesolovedtheworld (WriteMessyStuff)



Series: Calypso's Sea Lioness [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, False Romance, Manipulative Relationship, Multicultural, OC, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMessyStuff/pseuds/forhesolovedtheworld
Summary: With a blessing of power from an ocean goddess, a young Irish woman begins her bloody rise to power amidst the Golden Age of Piracy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first written in the summer of 2015, and later edited and re-posted from late 2015 into mid 2016. The version posted here is the same as the versions currently appearing on FanFiction.net and Quotev. I am simply adding this story to my other fanfic accounts.
> 
> No further edits/corrections will be made to this story, as there is a strong possibility that it will be converted into an original novel. As the author of this work, I’m aware that there are many problems with it, both big and small. Despite these, I hope you enjoy, and as always, comments and criticism are welcome, positive or negative. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support!

Tia Dalma had never seen a woman who was so determined as this young girl.  She had come a long way.  She was from Ireland, and she was fiery with anger.  She wanted revenge.  She wanted to be immortal. That was a tall order for Tia Dalma.  She had turned people into animals before, but she had never made someone immortal.

“And why do you need to be immortal, child?” the goddess questioned. There was something different about this girl.  She was filled with fury, something Tia Dalma could relate to.

“There will be no power that can hold me down,” she said, her green eyes flashing.  “I will rise above all oppression, and I will be free.”

This sparked the goddess’s interest.

“You have abandoned your home country, have you?” Calypso asked.

“I have,” the young woman replied.  “I came in search of you.  I heard that you can work with magic.”

“Dat would be true,” Tia Dalma replied, turning around and facing the woman.  “You, a nameless wanderer, want to be an immortal?”

“I will be an immortal,” said the woman.  Tia raised her eyebrows.

“And what has caused da hate in your heart, girl?”

“Man,” she replied, and Tia squinted.  This girl had something against a man.  She reached for her fortune bones, and cast them on the table.

“Your heart was betrayed,” Tia Dalma said, looking up at the woman. She did nothing to refute her statement.

“And now, you want revenge,” she went on, as the girl remained silent.

“Wouldn’t you?” the girl spoke up.  Tia Dalma stopped, and turned to face her, smiling.  This girl was smart.

“I would,” Tia replied.  The girl had won her heart now.  Oppression was one thing Tia Dalma could not stand for.  She had been subjected to her current form by the Brethren Court.  She couldn’t argue against this girl anymore.

“Where will you go?” Tia Dalma asked, grabbing bottles needed for her ritual.

“The world will be my path,” the woman replied.  Tia Dalma came back into the room.

“What will your purpose be?”

“To curse those who oppress the weak, and rise above man.”

“And your name, child?” Tia Dalma said, readying her magic.  The woman looked at her.

“Geneva,” she said.  It was a beautiful name.

“Den you will have a part of my power,” Tia Dalma said, clapping her hands together, an earthy dust falling through the air.  “You will be known as a sea lioness, a woman to be feared and revered on da seas. But your name will have a part of me as well, so dat man will know who you are.  So, you will be called Geneva Dalma.”


	2. Chapter 2

Traveling the world alone would not be easy. There really was no other way for Geneva, though. In order to learn about the world, and take in all that it had to offer, she would have to do it on her own.

So, Geneva took the next ship she could find back to Europe. It happened to be a small passenger ship, which was used as a merchant ship as well. The captain naturally asked questions. Geneva lied and told him she was returning home to Europe, and that she had come to Cuba to meet family. He responded that the ship would be making port in England, and Geneva had no complaint about this, saying that she had an escort waiting for her there. The captain finally let her stay aboard, only because she seemed to be of high status, and she did have an escort with her. Her escort was a young man, probably a servant of some sort. The only funny thing about it was that when they finally arrived in an English port, the captain asked the escort where they were headed to in Europe. The escort had no idea where he was, and the young lady was nowhere to be seen.

Upon her arrival in England, Geneva quickly abandoned the merchant ship without being noticed. Tia Dalma had given her a special power: she could hypnotize men with her eyes. It was a useful tactic to have. She knew that she couldn’t get on a ship by herself. She needed to have some sort of escort, especially with the women’s clothes that she was wearing. So, while walking around the port looking for a ship to take a ride on, she snagged an unsuspecting man and imprinted on him.

Tia Dalma had warned her to be very selective with the men she imprinted. The spell could not be broken unless the man was to die. Geneva herself could not break the spell once she had cast it. The only problem was, she could not harm the people that she imprinted, or she would feel their pain in her body as well. By imprinting, she connected part of herself with another, and thus, this other person was also connected to her in a state of habitual trust. Geneva had to wait until the person died in order to be free from the bonds imprinting created.

The hypnosis was also convenient, Tia Dalma said, but it was a skill that was best left secret if it was to be effective. When Geneva imprinted on someone, they instantly had complete trust in her, and she could use that to her advantage. She could use people to get what she wanted, or where she wanted. Sometimes, Tia Dalma said, she could even get visions of what those people were thinking or seeing.

It was the first time Geneva had ever used her eyes on anyone, and it seemed quite effective. She wasn’t sure how she’d use it in the future, but there were more important things to do that hypnotize people.

The reason Geneva came to Europe was to learn. She had never been outside her home country of Ireland before. Going to Cuba was daunting enough, but she had a purpose to fulfill. Now that she had gotten what she wanted from Tia Dalma, Geneva was on a new mission.

She had devised a sort of plan. She wanted to learn all that there was to learn about being a man, and then she wanted to do it even better than a man. She figured Europe was the best place to start, since it was the center of all modern knowledge. The only problem with this plan was that she was a woman. In order to learn to be like a man, she would have to become a man somehow.

Geneva quickly fled the port and briskly made her way through the streets, not exactly sure what city she was in yet. She walked up to a woman on the street who was selling flowers.

“Where can I find housing, ma’am?” Geneva said in her native Irish accent, using the best English that she could.

“Down a ways on this street, and then take a left,” the woman responded in a British accent. “There are nice apartments there.”

Geneva was intrigued by the woman’s accent. As she walked away, she repeated what the woman had said to her in a British accent, and then listened around her to the other people speaking. Some accents were slightly different from others, although they all seemed to be

British. The higher class citizens seemed to have some differences in the way they spoke, as opposed to the lower class flower girl that Geneva had just spoken to. She took them all in nonetheless.

She got to the apartment building and signed for a room. She had money enough to pay for a night, and claimed that she was just passing through to see family. It was convincing enough, because every word she uttered to the man behind the counter was in a perfect, upper-class British accent.

Upon entering her room, she flopped down on the bed and thought for a moment. In order to be a man, she would need to learn the different languages of man. Certainly, the most educated men on the planet were ones that could speak multiple languages fluently. English was a bit of a challenge, but accents were quite easy for her to copy for some reason. Tia Dalma had enhanced so many parts of her that perhaps the woman had also enhanced her mental capabilities as well.  It seemed plausible.

So, it was decided. The first thing Geneva would need to do is learn languages. A private tutor was far too expensive for her, and she could learn from speaking to people easily enough. Perhaps she could even read some, but that would require getting into a library, which was for the upper class.

Geneva sat up and looked down at her dress. It was plainly colored, but still nice looking. It was a beige-color overtop, with white underneath. That would do. But she needed another color for a jacket, possibly a green. And she needed a hat. She could make trousers out of her dress, and use the white to make a tunic for underneath the jacket.

This was a dangerous idea, though. Women dressing as men were not unheard of, but to be caught doing so would result in severe punishment. It always did. She hadn’t figured on lying so much to gain knowledge. Lying to the captain wasn’t a big deal for her. But lying about her gender would be something entirely different.

She knew how to sew quite well, though. She wasn’t an amateur. And she was granted these powers by Tia Dalma, a renowned sorceress. If such a powerful woman had faith in her abilities enough to grant her immortality, then she shouldn’t doubt herself.

She stood and smiled, her long red hair whipping behind her. She could do this. Today was the day her career in dishonesty would begin. And she wouldn’t just become a man; she would become an Englishman.


	3. Chapter 3

The English language came to Geneva quite easily, as she already knew a bit coming into Europe.  After about four months, she had finished her studies in England, and she quickly made her way through other countries as well.  She had found that in order to get into other countries, it was much easier to stow away on a merchant ship and escape when it made port.  She supposed that made her a pirate of sorts, but she wasn’t quite sure yet.  She hadn’t thought about that option very heavily as of late.

At the end of about seven years, Geneva had mastered English, French, Spanish, and German, along with their respective dialects.  She had been able to make it into libraries to study as well, and in all the books about language that she read, there were always references to a couple of  ancient languages called Latin and Greek.  Since they seemed to have such high importance, she began to read books about them as well, along with her regular studies of other languages.  Her studies in Latin and Greek greatly improved her understanding of all the other languages she was taking, including conjugation and grammatical aspects.  Latin and Greek were the origin languages of almost all European languages, and once she had those two under her belt, any other European language she came across was at least partially understandable, simply because she could guess the meanings of words based upon their Latin or Greek root word.  It also made literature much easier to read, because she could predict the grammatical structure of sentences.  Along with Latin and Greek, many other European languages shared similarities to one another, like Spanish and Italian.  Once she came across Italian, she could use both Spanish and the two base languages to decipher what each word and phrase meant, with a little bit of help from studying in the library. With Latin and Greek, languages came to her even more easily than ever before, and she had confidence enough to predict the meaning of words and sentences without necessarily being fluent in the language.

Besides studying languages during her stay in Europe, she found it would likely be beneficial to learn how to fight as well, so she studied swordsmanship.  During her cultural studies, she had noted that most prominent men were not only capable of speaking multiple languages, but also of handling a sword to high degree of skill.  Naturally, since swordplay was the business of the upper class male population, Geneva had no way of affording any such tutoring.  However, there were multiple ways to learn how to fight, and she found that the easiest and most effective way to learn was to throw herself into a fight.  She regularly attended underground sword fighting matches and shady taverns, just to get a chance to fight people with skill and learn from them.  She was not the only one who did this; many other young men went to these matches to learn just as she did, simply because they didn’t have the time or money for lessons.  It worked just as well, and it was likely more realistic than the formal fencing lessons of the day.  She did this in every country she stayed in, and got quite good at it rather early on.  Each time she entered a match, she exited with more knowledge.  Some of the matches she won, and some she lost, but she always learned something different from them, and all the while, the world was never aware that the quiet, redheaded man who liked to spar in back alleyways was actually a woman.

Geneva’s disguise was almost flawless.  She had learned to sew as a young child in Ireland, and during her stay in England, she made her dress into loose fitting trousers and a tunic.  She made herself a nice looking jacket, and found a black hat to pull it all together. All she had to do was tie her hair up in a low ponytail, and she closely resembled a man.

It was a normal thing for men to have longer hair, regardless of status, so hers was not a hindrance to her disguise.  She was on the taller side, but still about average for a woman, and definitely not out of the question for a man.  Her eyes were a bright green, and they flashed gold when she imprinted on someone.  Her clothes were loose, which allowed her curves to remain well hidden.  Her hips were a bit wider than her shoulders, but she was healthy, and during the time she spent in Europe, she had become quite built.  Her bosom was on the smaller side, which was especially nice for concealing her gender, and her hair came down to the middle of her back.  It was naturally on the straight side, but it could be a little wavy when it was dampened or unkempt.

It had taken Geneva a little while to get used to the fact that she had red hair.  Before she  met with Tia Dalma, Geneva’s hair had been brown.  Tia had told her that her striking new features had come because she had been endowed with such strong magical abilities.  The Obeah sorceress had given Geneva abilities even beyond hypnosis, such as the ability to heal herself.  Since she couldn’t die, Geneva was able to heal herself at will, which she hadn’t had to use yet, but she figured that she might need to sooner or later if she was to get involved in any real combat.  Tia Dalma had also heightened Geneva’s senses, making her into something supernatural in nature.  This accounted for how easily she was able to learn languages and swordsmanship, and how sensitive she was in sparring situations with other men.

Just as Tia Dalma had mentioned, she had added a part of her nature to Geneva, and thus given her the name Dalma as well.  So, just as Tia Dalma knew the sea, so did Geneva.  It was quite remarkable, she noted, how fast she was able to learn her way around.  She had a good sense of direction as a young girl to begin with, but now, it seemed that her mental capabilities were beyond possible.  Never had she imagined that she would be able to learn five languages fluently in less than seven years, on top of learning to handle a sword well.  She found it to be incredibly remarkable how fast she grew and learned, and she was very pleased with what power Tia Dalma had given her.

Because she could learn it so quickly, Geneva took a liking to sword fighting early on.  She built up a lot of strength and skill over the years, and learned many different styles of fighting.  During her stay in Spain, she was given an old rapier for winning a duel, which was a long, thin sword with an extravagant hilt.  Her rapier was a bit more modest on the hilt, but she loved it nonetheless.  She took it with her wherever she went, and she was quite pleased to have it when she decided to leave Europe.

Since she had learned as much as she could there, Geneva decided it was time to expand her horizons and travel around more.  The only problem was, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get from one place to another, and on top of that, she wasn’t sure where she wanted to go next.  There were so many places she could possibly go.

But she simply couldn’t resist when she heard about the “savages of the Barbary Coast.”  When she was in a Portuguese tavern one night, she overheard two men speaking about the slave trade.  These slaves were being described as uncivilized, and completely inhuman, property of the white man.  She was so curious that she went to the library the next day and pulled out every book she could find on Africa.  She learned all that she could about the place, and when the books ran out of knowledge, she decided that she would go there herself.  She wanted to see exactly what or who was out there.

Since merchant ships left for Africa in participation with the slave trade, Geneva was able to get aboard a ship using her male disguise. Although she planned to be a stowaway, she quickly realized that this idea was quite unrealistic, and she was noticed immediately.  She was mistaken for a crew member, and thus, she was put to work.  This wasn’t all too bad though, because if she was to learn the trades of men, she should learn how to live at sea as well.  Working a ship was a difficult task, she found.  There were so many parts, and everything was so complicated that Geneva was stuck with minor tasks such as swabbing the deck when the crew realized that she wasn’t of much use.

She also wasn’t too pleased with the rationing aboard the ship.  The only food they had was hardtack, which wasn’t all that appetizing in the least, but she supposed that it would be something she’d have to get used to if she was to ever learn to survive on a ship.

The voyage took a very long time.  She had been on ships for long periods of time before, but usually they had been passenger ships. This one was not nearly as nice, although she could appreciate the view that she got of the sea.  She really enjoyed being on a ship for some reason.  She wasn’t sure if it was the wind on her face or the smell of saltwater as the waves lapped against the ship’s hull, but there was altogether something about it.

When the African coast first appeared on the horizon, Geneva couldn’t stop looking at it, almost like she was searching for someone on the shore.  It looked so much different than how she imagined, even though she had read all those books about it, and it was nothing like Ireland or Europe in the slightest.  When the crew readied to lower a rowboat into the water to head ashore, she was the first one to get in, even though the crew chuckled at her eagerness, commenting jokingly about the youngster who’d seemingly never laid eyes on the African coast.

When they got to shore, there was a makeshift building surrounded by guards whose skins were a deep brown.  They wore clothes that were like Europeans, but much more tattered.  The rest of the crew beckoned her to hurry up and head for the barracoon, evidently what the building before her was called.  The word “barracoon” sounded like the word “barrack,” which implied that it was a type of bunkhouse for people.

She entered the building after a couple of men, and she realized this barracoon was not nearly as nice as a bunkhouse.  It was very plain, almost makeshift, and had many beds filled with half naked people. Some of them were entirely naked.  But the thing she couldn’t quite understand was why they were here.  They looked like people, not property as the men in the tavern had said.  They didn’t look like savages.  They just looked like humans.

She slipped out of view from the other crew members as they inspected the people in the front of the barracoon.  She headed toward the back, behind the rows of beds and people, their eyes silently on her.  She could only imagine they looked at her out of curiosity.  She was their opposite: extremely fair skinned.

She stopped at the very back corner of the barracoon and looked down at a woman.  She was breast-feeding a small child, who laid humbly in the crook of her arm.  Geneva lifted her hat some and knelt down so that she could speak to the woman.

“ _Hello_ ,” she whispered in Portuguese, and the woman looked up at her, confusion written on her face.

“ _You don’t speak my language_ ,” Geneva said softly, and the woman only looked at her without the ability to understand.  The only reason Geneva stopped by her was because she was a mother.  This mother should not become a slave.  That ship was bad enough for Geneva to stay on, and these people weren’t about to be treated any better.

“ _Come_ ,” Geneva said, although it was futile to speak to the woman, for she could not understand.  The female’s eyes became wild with fear.  She misunderstood, and opened her mouth to make a struggle. She thought she was being chosen to be sold.

“ _Hush_ ,” Geneva said, holding a hand over the woman’s mouth to stifle her scream of protest.  Speaking in Portuguese was not going to get her anywhere.  Hand signals would have to do for now.

Geneva put a finger up to her lips, and the woman watched her.  The understanding slowly crept onto her face as Geneva explained that she was not going to take her away.  She revealed her gender to the woman, and did her best to calm her down.

The woman appeared to understand.  That would do for now.  They just needed to get out of there somehow.  Geneva stood from the woman and looked around.  There was a back door to the barracoon a few yards away, but she could see the shadow of a guard.  That wouldn’t be too hard to evade.  It was the only way they were going to make it out of there.

Geneva slowly made her way over to the door and caught the attention of the guard.

“ _What is the language of these people_? _”_ Geneva asked him.  “ _They do not understand me._ ”

“ _Yoruba speak them_ ,” replied the guard in broken Portuguese.  Geneva had never heard of Yoruba before.

“ _How do I say, ‘come with me’ in Yoruba?”_ Geneva asked.  The man thought for a moment.  He wasn’t suspicious at all.

“ _Telemi kalo_ ,” said the man, and Geneva nodded.  She lifted her hat up some, so that the man could look her in the eye, and they flashed a bright golden.  She felt the connection adhere, and walked back to where the woman was, having made a successful imprint.  This was working out well.

“ _Telemi kalo_ ,” she said to the woman, and her eyes lit up instantly.

“ _S’ole so ede yoruba?”_ she exclaimed softly, and Geneva couldn’t understand.  She hadn’t heard enough of the language, and it didn’t sound like it had any roots in Latin or Greek.  This would just be one she’d have to learn.

“ _Telemi kalo_ ,” Geneva repeated softly, grabbing the woman’s hand and beckoning her to follow.  The woman stood and began to come after her until she saw the guard’s shadow at the door.

“ _Kantan kantan leyi!”_ the woman said in a frightened tone.  “ _Be’ko! Be’ko!”_

Geneva turned back to face her and put a finger to her lips.  She didn’t know what to say.

“ _Telemi kalo_ ,” she repeated again, very slowly.  The woman was frightened.  She was afraid of the guard.  Geneva motioned at the woman, and then at her own heart.  She hoped that made some kind of sense.  Then, Geneva turned back to the door and stood up very confidently.

“ _I have bought this woman, correct?_ ” she asked the man.  The guard, under hypnosis, responded affirmatively.

“ _Tell her to trust me in Yoruba_ ,” Geneva said to the man, and he thought for a moment, translating in his head.  As soon as he had told her, she looked at Geneva with confusion, and Geneva could only nod. The language barrier would be difficult to overcome, but she could do it.

“ _What is her name?_ ” Geneva asked the guard, and the guard asked the woman.

“Abeni,” the woman said, looking at Geneva to answer.

“Geneva,” she replied, pointing to herself.  Abeni nodded in understanding.  Geneva grabbed her hand and pulled her out the back door of the barracoon and past all of the other guards, who did not bother to stop them because according to the guard at the back, the woman called Abeni and her little baby had been purchased by the man with red hair.


	4. Chapter 4

Geneva and Abeni continued on, farther away from the coastline, and headed into a forest.  Geneva wished she could have brought the guard along, simply because he could speak Yoruba and she couldn’t.  She wanted to learn this language, but there were no books on it for her to read, and it wasn’t related to Greek or Latin.  She couldn’t speak to Abeni for long using only hand signals.

Geneva let go of Abeni’s hand and grabbed a stick and proceeded to draw rather frustratedly in the mud.  She drew a simplistic house, and pointed to Abeni.  She hoped this made sense.  It didn’t really seem to at first.  Abeni only looked at the drawing with confusion, and tried to speak in Yoruba to her, but Geneva only shook her head.  This was very frustrating.

Abeni took to quieting her baby, which had only just begun to cry. She had very little clothing on, save for a thin shirt of sorts and a ragged skirt, which had probably seen better days.  She was small, but had a wide frame, for she had recently given birth, and she had short hair that barely peeked out on the sides from a dirtied white cloth which covered her head.  The front of her shirt was open so that she could breastfeed her child, and Abeni didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to have her breasts exposed at all.  Geneva had never seen such a thing in a person before, but she had never seen such a place or such a practice either.  This world was very different from the ones of Ireland and Europe, and was very primitive.  Yet, there was some kind of beauty in the simplicity in which Abeni held herself: the way she stood and the way she walked, the way she cradled her child and willingly walked barefoot through the muddy earth, the way that she didn’t bother covering her exposed chest, for she had more humble pride in her child than her own body.

Geneva looked at the stick in her hand again and smeared the drawing of the house away with her boot.  She drew people and then a village as best as she could.  She drew a woman with a baby and she drew herself next to them.  Once she had finished, she pointed to Abeni, and then to the drawing of the woman with the baby.  She did the same for herself in order to signify that the two people represented them, and once Abeni had understood that, she drew an arrow toward the little village she had drawn, indicating that they should travel to Abeni’s village.  Geneva wanted to go there.  She wanted to learn from Abeni and learn her language and her culture.  It was so different from anything she’d ever known, and absolutely nothing like what the books in the European libraries described.

At first, Abeni didn’t understand.  Geneva didn’t know how to make this any more clear.  She started drawing things that toddlers would draw in their pictures of home.  She didn’t know what Abeni’s home looked like.  She drew trees and grass and birds.  She drew happy people.  She didn’t know what else to draw, so she drew a sun rising in the background.  That was when Abeni became ecstatic.  She spoke quickly, and grabbed Geneva by the hand, pulling her through the forest, repeating quickly and often the word “ile,” which Geneva could only hope to assume meant one thing: home.


	5. Chapter 5

At first, the chief of the village that Abeni lived in was suspicious of Geneva. He didn’t trust her presence in his village. Abeni was a very low class woman, but a member of the village nonetheless, and explained that Geneva had saved her. At the time, Geneva hadn’t known was Abeni was saying to the chief of the village, for she didn’t speak their language in the slightest. It was a rather confusing experience for her; to just stand there, not even remotely knowing what was being said all around her. Thankfully, when the chief questioned her, he was able to speak Portuguese to her, since he made most of the important dealings with the slave traders.

Geneva finally explained herself, but the chief wasn’t entirely convinced. He was a bit suspicious still. Never, in all of his days, had he ever seen a white man—or in Geneva’s case, a white woman—willingly buy a slave’s freedom. Abeni was the lowest of the village, an adulteress, and she, along with other village criminals and lowly people, had been traded for Portuguese salt.

" _This woman is worth salt to you?"_ Geneva asked, careful not to let her temper flare through her words. She was becoming angry.

" _She is no good for this village_ ," replied the chief firmly, his Portuguese noticeably better than the guard’s. " _She is a curse to my people! I will not house criminals and prostitutes!"_

" _Then you refuse me?"_ Geneva asked softly. Her temper flared in her eyes, and she let them flash gold, but she didn’t imprint on the chief. She just let him see her power. The man took a healthy step backwards.

" _A goddess,_ " he murmured in utter awe and terror. The people around him recoiled upon hearing his words. The word " _orisa_ " fluttered through the villagers, and more gasps were heard. Even Abeni gasped. Geneva hadn’t quite been going for the title of goddess, but she supposed it couldn’t hurt. They would listen to her now.

" _You are a goddess,_ " the chief repeated, dumbfounded. " _Forgive my ignorance._ " He bowed where he stood, and then kneeled, the rest of the tribe following his lead. Now Geneva couldn’t take it anymore. She wasn’t a goddess. She was only the creation of a goddess.

" _I am the creation of the goddess Calypso_ ," she corrected him. " _Do not kneel before me._ " The chief hesitated some, and then stood again. The rest of the villagers did the same after a moment.

" _I am Calypso’s sea lioness,_ " she went on. " _My name is Geneva Dalma. I chose for Abeni to be free to live, and that is my wish. If you choose to disobey my wish and curse her, I shall in turn curse you._ "

" _We will not disobey you, Sea Lioness,_ " the chief assured her. " _She shall live here amongst us, and you are welcome here also as repayment for our wrongs against you._ " Geneva looked at Abeni, who had tears in her eyes. A man next to her was translating every word for her.

Geneva shook her head at the chief. " _I am no goddess,_ " she admitted. " _I only look to protect the oppressed, and curse those who curse the weak. But I will live among you. I have been curious about your people for a long time. I thank you for your hospitality._ "

The chief was humbled by her decision, even though she was not a goddess as he had thought. She was still powerful enough to curse his village, and for their sake, he let her stay and live amongst them. In turn, Geneva stayed with them for almost four years. She learned to speak Yoruba rather quickly, and learned their customs and heritage. She lived just as they did, storing her old clothes under the bed they had provided for her, and wearing the clothes they gave her to wear. She even learned a new way to fight. She taught the villagers the European way of fighting, and in turn, they taught her their way of fighting. They could fight with two swords at once, and they also taught her how to use spears.

Their culture absolutely fascinated Geneva. They lived so simply, and yet their lives were so rich. They dwelled in vibrant tradition, and they had an appreciation for the world around them that went even beyond that of the most committed naturalists in Europe. Their roots were deeply secured in the idea of family and community, and even Geneva was included in the celebration of such values. Festivals were held often, and they were always magnificent to witness. It was beautiful land, a beautiful people, and a beautiful life.

Geneva couldn’t believe their generosity toward her. She was a white woman, nothing like what they were used to. Still, though, they greeted her daily with open arms and thanksgiving. They welcomed her everywhere she went, despite who she was and how different she was. Even after she had finally learned Yoruba, which took a while to do even though she did learn it relatively quickly, people never ceased to shower her with joy.

Abeni never stopped being grateful toward Geneva. Even as the years began to pass, the woman always thanked Geneva daily. There was one particular time that Geneva never forgot, though. After three years, Geneva had learned Yoruba fluently, and regularly spoke the language to the villagers. So, when Abeni spoke to her on that afternoon, it was a conversation conducted entirely in Yoruba.

They had been washing clothes together. Abeni’s son was now three years old, and he was playing with rocks and sticks under the shade of a nearby hut. Abeni put down the clothes she was washing and looked up at Geneva, who was still busy washing her own clothes.

" _You know,_ " Abeni said. " _You say you’re not a goddess_."

" _Because I’m not_ ," Geneva said, squeezing the water out of the shirt she was washing.

" _You always say you aren’t,_ " Abeni said. " _Perhaps you are telling the truth. But you are not a simple human._ "

" _I am a sea lioness_ ," Geneva said, and Abeni nodded.

" _Yes, but you are more than that._ "

" _More than that? What more could I possibly be?_ "

" _No man has ever shown me mercy like that before,_ " Abeni said, thankfulness in her voice. It made Geneva stop and look at her. " _I doubt man has the capability to do such a thing. So you cannot be a man. Perhaps you are what the white man calls an angel._ "

Nobody had ever regarded her in that way before. She hadn’t done what she did to receive the title of an angel. She had only freed Abeni because she didn’t deserve the fate of a slave. She wouldn’t have made it across the ocean, especially not with a baby. It would have been a horrible life for her, and a horrible way to die.

As kind as it was for Abeni to say such a thing to her, for some reason, it ate away at Geneva like a termite. She was too comfortable there. She didn’t want to leave, and it made her want to leave even more. She wasn’t sure why, but the comfort offered by this home was becoming strangely agonizing. It pained her, no matter which way she looked. She didn’t want to do what she had to do, but she had to. She just couldn’t stay.

She couldn’t bear to see the distraught looks on the faces of the villagers as she tried to explain herself either. So, she didn’t. She just didn’t say a word to them. She couldn’t bear to. It was a painful decision to make, but she had to go. She had a goal to meet, and she couldn’t accomplish it by staying comfortably where she was.

And so, she slipped out of the little village when the moon was new, only taking with her the colorful beaded anklet that Abeni had made for her. Since she couldn’t bear to be entirely heartless, Geneva snuck into Abeni’s hut before she left, and placed the beautiful set of clothes that she was given to wear at the side of Abeni’s bed. She looked back at the sleeping woman for only a moment before leaving, and hesitated. Then, unable to withstand the moment any longer, she whispered " _ese gan,"_ thank you, and slipped away silently into the moonless night.


	6. Chapter 6

When Geneva made it to the coast, it was very early in the morning. The sun was barely showing over the horizon, and there was a ship not too far off the coast. She stayed hidden in the tree line to observe, and when she found an opening, she snuck aboard.

Of course, she was in her male disguise. Although the African village she stayed in didn’t seem to mind her gender, she was going back to the real world now, and back to people who did mind. When she got safely aboard, she stowed herself away in the storage in the hull and waited.

She had expected to hear the sound of slaves coming down into the hull, but she never did. She just heard angry shouts, a few yells, and then she heard the ship’s anchor being pulled up. She sat there confused. She had thought this was a cargo ship. Apparently it wasn’t.

She got out from behind the barrels which offered her protection from being seen and stood up again. She could feel the boat moving some now. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t sure what she should do, but she had no clue where this ship was going. She had thought it would be going back to Europe, or maybe to Cuba as part of the Atlantic slave trade, but since this ship had no slaves in the hull, it couldn’t be a slave ship. What other ship could it be then?

Just then, she heard a ruckus, and a few men came down into the hull, probably looking for something. Geneva froze. It was dark where she was, but there were some lanterns lit on the other wall. She ducked down where she was, unable to move to her cover behind the barrels in time. One of the men was very tall, and the other one was regular size, but very built.

The tall one grabbed a lantern off the table and started in her direction. She didn’t know what she could do at this point. It was so dark, they’d never be able to see her eyes. She couldn’t move now, or else they’d hear her. She wished she’d been more careful about this.

The tall one started walking in a different direction, but the strong one started coming towards her with his own lantern. She held her breath, trying to become one with the powder kegs next to her. The strong one didn’t see her either, even though he walked within a foot of her. When she was sure they were far enough away, she breathed softly again. She had to figure something out. She couldn’t hide forever. She just needed to get off, swim to shore, and wait for another ship to come.

But that was a stupid idea. She had no way of knowing when the next cargo ship would arrive. God, she wished she knew where this ship was going. Perhaps she could stay, but she wouldn’t make it too long as a stowaway, especially like this down in the hull. It was too musty.

"Who are you?!" came a voice from behind her, and Geneva jumped. "You ain’t a member of this crew! How’d you get in here?!" His accent was a thick, lower class British accent, and he grabbed the back of her jacket and pulled her up to her feet.

"Aye, he’s just a lad, Lewis," snickered the tall one from behind her. The muscular one was holding her.

"I don’t give a rat’s arse what he is," Lewis said gruffly, shoving her forward toward the stairs that led up to the deck. "He ain’t supposed to be here!"

Lewis shoved her up the stairs and towards a staunch man with a long jacket on.

"Captain!" exclaimed Lewis and the tall man at the same time from behind her. "I found a stowaway!" The two men glared at each other stiffly, and Lewis shoved the other man back a foot. The tall man hissed in return.

"A stowaway?" said the man in the jacket calmly, his back turned toward them. "And how is it that we never found this stowaway until now?"

Now, neither of the men wanted to take credit for finding her. Lewis shoved her forward toward the captain, as if he was letting her do the explaining. It took everything for Geneva not to roll her eyes.

"Sir," Geneva said, in the most manly voice she could muster. "I’m afraid there’s been a mistake here. I thought this was me cargo ship." She knew somewhat where she was going with this story.

"Your cargo ship?" said the captain, who turned to face her. "A slave cargo ship?" He almost sounded amused. He had dirty blonde hair that came down to his jaw and a scraggly beard. His face was weathered and stern, but still on the younger side.

"Yes, sir," Geneva said.

"Then why were you hiding in the hull?" the man asked. He thought he was onto her. But she had a few more tricks up her sleeve.

"I wasn’t hiding, sir," she protested. "I was waiting to do me job, sir. Me job on me cargo ship is to line up the slaves, sir." She made a real effort to sound young, inexperienced, and flustered. The more nervous she was, the more believable her story would be.

"So you came from Africa then?" the captain pondered, seemingly entertained by the story.

"Yes, sir," Geneva replied, nodding rapidly.

"How’d you end up stuck there, lad?" asked the captain. "Did your old crew maroon ya’?"

"No, sir!" Geneva said, rather excitedly. She sounded perfect. The captain was totally convinced now. "I was doin’ me job! A slave tried to run for the forest, and I went after him like I was told to do, sir! When I came back, me ship was gone!"

"So, they marooned you," the captain laughed, and the crew laughed along with him. Geneva’s shoulder’s slumped.

"I jus’ did what I was told to," she mumbled sadly. "I even brought the slave back. I got ‘em, jus’ like I was told to."

"Well, if you’re so good at doing what you’re told, then you can shut your whining trap!" howled the muscular man, kicking Geneva in the back of the knees. She stumbled backward and fell flat on her bottom, thankful that her hat was still on. A few men snatched her rapier and cutlass and gave them to the captain, who just stood silently watching the whole scene in amusement.

"Hey, wait!" Geneva protested. Part of that was a bit real. "Those are mine! You can’t take those!" The men paid no mind.

"You’re real good at complainin’, lad," said a huge man, pulling a dagger out of his jacket.

"You can throw me overboard if you’d like," Geneva exclaimed nervously. "I can jus’ swim back to shore an’ not cause you no more trouble."

"Oh," said the huge man, bringing the dagger close to her jaw. "You ain’t gonna cause us no more trouble. You’re going to do as you’re told, jus’ like you said."

The man let the dagger pierce the skin on her face, drawing blood. She winced and yelped. That part of her act was entirely real. She was glad that her voice had remained in the low octaves when she cried out. The man drug the dagger along her jaw for about an inch, and then went back and crossed it with another mark, making a bloody ‘x’ on her face. When the man finally pulled away, Geneva’s hand shot up to her face. She was shaking, and when she pulled her hand away to look at it, there was blood all over her fingers. Had that just happened?

"Lock him in the brig," the captain chuckled, studying her rapier, and Lewis, along with the tall man, picked her up by her arms and drug her back down into the hull and threw her into a cell.


	7. Chapter 7

Geneva was quite sure that altercation couldn’t have gone any better. Certainly, it could have gone worse, but she was a bit frustrated now. She wished that she had known this was a pirate ship before she decided to just sneak aboard. She had never been on a pirate ship, and had never been associated with pirates in her life. If this had been a regular merchant ship or cargo ship, she would have gotten along much better. But now, she was stuck in the brig, and there wasn’t much she could do.

She brought her fingers up to where the large man had carved into her skin with a dagger. It was still bleeding, and it still hurt. She shuddered from the pain, and then took a deep breath. She could take care of that. She hadn’t ever taken care of any wounds before now, but she was confident that she could.

She excruciatingly focused all of her thoughts on the cut on her cheek and scrunched her eyes shut, just for added measure. Sure enough, after a few seconds, she felt the pain subside, and rather quickly. So, it wasn’t necessary to scrunch her eyes shut at all. That was a relief. She didn’t want to look ridiculous. She reached up to touch her face again and found that the cut was gone, and there was only dried blood left over. Her face was entirely smooth, as if she had never been cut. Geneva was in awe. That would come in handy.

She looked about the brig. There was nobody there. She stood up and walked over to the cell door, trying to see how it worked. She sighed, fuming a little bit. There was no way she could pick the lock, and there was no way she could just break down the door. She would just have to wait for the right moment. 

* * *

 

Geneva had been in the brig for close to a month now, if she was still counting correctly. This was becoming a real bore. She didn’t know where she was on the sea, and she had barely any room to walk around in. They could have at least let her swab the deck or something.

They did give her food daily, but it was hardtack and water, and it was only once a day. She was glad that she was immortal, for there was no way she could die from malnourishment; she would only suffer from it.

For the most part, Geneva didn’t speak to the men that brought her food. For a while, it was that man named Lewis that brought her food, and then it was the tall man, whose name she found out to be Douglas. Douglas seemed a bit more trustworthy of Geneva than Lewis did, so she figured that she could use him to get some answers about the ship.

She didn’t say much to him at first when he brought her food, but after a little bit, she started to talk to him. He was stubborn at the start, but over time, he talked to her more. Geneva figured he secretly felt a bit of pity for her persona. Just to make things even better, she started to even be a tad polite with Douglas, in hopes of snagging even more information out of him. She had dropped to a new low of foolery, but she really wanted to get off that ship.

"Mister Douglas?" she asked, drawing his attention before he left from the brig one day. He had just dropped off her food for the day. He looked down at her through the bars. He was very tall, and a bit on the lanky side, with matted black hair.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to sound more gruff than he was. Certainly, he’d be able to overpower her, but he was trying to put up a sort of front it seemed.

"Where’s your ship headed to?" she asked, curiosity in her voice. She added that it was "his ship" on purpose. She knew that would appeal to his ego, and when something appealed to a man’s ego, nothing could keep him from talking.

"It’s headed off to Singapore, that’s where," he said proudly, a grin forming on his face. She could only imagine that he was picturing himself as the captain.

"Singapore?" she asked with a confused tone. "You mean the Singapore in Malaysia?"

"You bet your arse, I do," he replied pompously. "We’ll be there in a matter of a week, that’s how fast this ship is!"

"Why are you goin’ to Singapore, Mister Douglas?" she pushed on, and Douglas opened his mouth to continue, but then stopped, looking down at Geneva. The closed his mouth and thought for a moment, his eyes squinted at her.

"Well that ain’t none of your business," he said lowly, and he walked out of the brig. That didn’t really bother Geneva at all. She had gotten exactly what she needed to know. 

* * *

 

About a week later, Geneva knew they were close to Singapore. She could hear it in the crew’s voices above her on the deck. She was waiting quite patiently in her cell now. It was about time for Douglas to come with her ration.

Sure enough, the man came thumping down the steps and into the brig, greasy black hair and all. He really was quite ugly looking.

"We’re making port!" he snarled, shoving Geneva’s food through the bars. Geneva caught it and stood up quickly, looking very excited.

"In Singapore?" she exclaimed.

"Of course, in Singapore, you idiot! Where else would we possibly be?" Douglas snapped, and she could smell his breath. She refused to wrinkle her nose.

He turned to head quickly back up to the deck, but Geneva had different plans.

"Mister Douglas!" she said, and he stopped and begrudgingly turned back towards her, only to be caught in a golden gaze. Now, he was hers for manipulation.

"Do you think that maybe I could come up to the deck to see Singapore?" she asked hesitantly. Douglas’ eyes were glossy, but he was hearing every word; the only difference was that now, he trusted the lad behind the bars much more than he had before.

"I ain’t never seen Singapore with me own eyes," she continued, looking back up at him. "You could take me up there for jus’ a moment, an’ then bring me straight back, that’s all. _I’ll do jus’ what you say_."

"Well then jus’ let me tell you what to do!" he snapped at her, grabbing the key off the rung across the wall from her cell. He shoved it hastily into the lock and pulled the door open, grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her out of the cell.

"Now, we’re only going up there for a minute, you hear?" he said gruffly, pushing her off to the side and out of his way.

"Yes, sir," she said, letting his ego gorge on the false authority she was dangling in front of him for the taking. She really had to work to keep herself from smiling at it all.

He stood there for a second facing the cell, trying to decide whether to close the door or keep it open. It was rather amusing. Geneva could sense what he was feeling, simply because she was nearby. He finally decided on keeping it open because he’d be back with the prisoner in no time, and right when he was about to turn back around, Geneva shoved him with all her might, and he fell forward into the cell. She slammed the gate shut behind him and pulled the key out of the lock, tugging on the door to make sure it was locked, which it was. Douglas stood up, a look of exasperated shock written all over his face.

"Why you little!" he said, his rage heightening. Geneva only smiled and chuckled, not even bothering to lower her voice.

"Why, thank ya’, Mister Douglas," she said in her Irish accent, bowing and taking off her hat to mockingly reveal her gender. "That was awful kind of ya’!" A look of utter shock washed over his face, and he was left speechless as she put her hat back atop her head again and bounded up the stairs to the main deck. He didn’t even bother calling after her in protest, he was so shocked at the revelation.

Geneva made her way quietly to the top of the stairs and peeked out from the shadows. There were men running every which way, preparing to make port in Singapore. It was rather dark out. Geneva smiled. This would do nicely.

She scanned the ship for the captain’s quarters, and found the doors to them sitting wide open right across the main deck. She looked left, and then she looked right. Nobody had seen her. So, with the upmost stealth, she slunk over to the starboard railing and hid behind a cannon that was halfway across the deck. Then, when the coast was clear, she scampered soundlessly into the captain’s cabin.

Once she got inside, she noted that there was no one there. She saw her swords sitting by the back window of the room and quietly went over and grabbed them, attaching them to her waist again where they belonged.

"Now, who let you out?" came a smooth voice, and Geneva snapped her head up, pulling her rapier out instinctively. There was the shaggy blonde captain, standing at the door to the room.

"I let me-self out," she said, not bothering with her disguise anymore. The captain’s face got a bit confused, undoubtedly wondering why she sounded like an Irish woman and not a British boy. He pulled out his sword as well and pointed it at her.

"What is your business aboard my ship?" he growled lowly, that being the first time she had seen him show aggression. Geneva was not fazed by this at all, though. She knew what her choices were, and she had already thought out all their outcomes. She was already three moves ahead of the captain.

"Well, that’s none of your business, is it?" she said, letting a sly smile creep onto her face. The captain bore his teeth in fury and charged at her, brandishing his sword. She blocked his attack and shoved him backward, her footing already set. He came back for her, but she had already drawn her cutlass as well, and she knocked his sword from his grasp in two strokes, one from each sword. Quickly, the man backed away, Geneva still pointing her swords at him.

"Get off," he said bitterly. "Just get off me ship, you filthy creature."

She would have taken her leave at his first sentence, but his second one really struck a chord in her, and she turned around to face him.

"Just so you know," she said, pointing her cutlass at him, looking down upon him with disdain. "I don’t do what I’m told. I’m a sea lioness. I don’t have to listen to the likes of you, so don’t waste your filthy breath with me."

And with that, the sea lioness left the cabin, the captain still sitting there, dumbfounded.


	8. Chapter 8

Singapore was certainly a different world altogether. But it was not the only world to be marveled at in Asia. Geneva spent a generous amount of time not only in Malaysia, but in the surrounding countries as well, such as Japan, China, and India. These countries were rich with a culture that was far different from anything she’d ever seen before. What was the most surprising to her, though, had to be that women were allowed to learn the art of sword fighting in Japan. Where in other countries, Geneva had to disguise herself as a man in order to learn their cultural practices, she was able to learn the Japanese art of _kenjutsu_ , or the technique of the sword, openly as a woman.

Generally, Geneva tried to immerse herself into the country’s culture as a whole while she took residence there. She picked up multiple languages while there, and even learned to read some of them. It was rather difficult to do, simply because she had never been exposed to the alphabets used in Chinese and Japanese. During her stay in Japan, however, she was able to learn much more about Chinese, and she learned that the two languages and cultures shared similarities with each other, which made things a bit easier.

Although she was still considered a woman in Japanese society, Geneva was treated with a certain respect, which she appreciated. The Japanese people realized early on that Geneva was some sort of higher being when she demonstrated that she could heal herself. She didn’t know it at the time, but the Japanese believed her to be a goddess, just as the people in Africa had. Once Geneva fully learned the language and discovered this, she had thought about explaining herself, but she knew so little of the Japanese culture that she feared what they would do to her, should she reveal that she was deceiving them. So, she went along with it all, and thus, she was allowed to learn whatever art she liked. She taught them her skills as well, which they took a slight degree of interest in, but still believed their traditions to be superior. Geneva couldn’t argue with that. Their sword handling techniques were incredible, and the swords they used were extremely strong and sharp. She fell in love with the _katana_ , simply because it was different from anything she had ever used, and she fell in love with the style of fighting that the Japanese were masters of. Instead of using one hand on the _katana_ , it was the practice to use two hands, which made the blade much faster and stronger than ever before.

However, something that had always interested Geneva ever since she had left Africa was the idea of fighting with two swords. The Japanese gladly helped her develop this skill, as well as a great deal of agility when moving about the battle terrain. She became quite skilled with two swords rather quickly, and once she was satisfied, she decided it was time for her to move on. The Japanese were sad to see her go, but decided to give her a special parting gift: a beautiful curved dagger. It had a thin hilt and a beautiful silvery blade, and Geneva adored it greatly.

Deciding to leave Japan was the easy part. But actually leaving was the hard part. It took Geneva some time to find a way to leave the country, simply because she had gotten to the country by stowing away on boats and ships. Finally, though, Geneva was able to find a ship that was headed back west along the southern Asian coast, so she decided to take her chances.

As nice as life had been for her in Japan, it was not nearly as nice out at sea. Not every ship that she boarded was run by Japanese sailors, or even Japanese pirates, so she did run into some problems. They weren’t problems that she couldn’t handle though, and much to her surprise, she found out that she already had a bit of a reputation in the South China Sea and the Indian Ocean. Although she still had to be cautious and remain well disguised, it was a bit delightful to her that she actually had a reputation to speak of. The fact that she was becoming somewhat feared and respected on the high seas was something that was only just a dream to her not too long ago, and now, it was playing out.

But just because her reputation was growing didn’t mean that she was invincible. Many crews who knew of her existence and power not only feared her, but hated her as well. They were careful not to let anyone suspicious aboard their ships, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone they thought could be a stowaway. Rather quickly, it became a common superstition that it was bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship, which made it increasingly dangerous for Geneva. Although Geneva was immortal, she found that it would be more wise for her to stay out of potentially harmful situations whenever possible, and she finally decided that it would be best to leave that side of the world for a while, and slip back into a sort of anonymity like she had been used to.

So, somewhat against her original will, she forced herself to leave those waters once she had located a ship that was set to travel below the tip of Africa and back up toward Europe. She had been lucky to find a ship that was heading for Europe in the first place, for it was not every day that ships took the long, arduous journey around the tip of Africa. But, she noticed quite soon after the ship had made it around the southern cape that her reputation must have followed her, for the crew started to slowly become suspicious of her. So, she didn’t give them a chance to do anything, and excused herself from the ship very late at night using a small rowboat, her tail between her legs all over again. Although she wanted to be safe from harm and potential capture, she didn’t like the idea of still feeling too powerless to protect herself after all that she had learned over the many years she had spent traveling. That notion hardened her feelings immensely, as well as her determination.

So, she sat there, floating in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean in a tiny rowboat. She knew approximately where she was. But certainly she wasn’t about to row herself to shore. As nice as it was to finally be alone, it wasn’t exactly ideal. She would just have to wait for an opportune moment.


	9. Chapter 9

Geneva was beginning to doubt her own senses. Normally, her intuition was quite good, but in the moment, it seemed as though she had been wrong. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected to happen, floating in the middle of the ocean, but she had expected something. She could have sworn she felt something on the sea. She had a special connection with ocean, and she just knew when it came to this sort of thing.

However, it had been a few days, possibly even a week. Nothing had happened yet. The only thing she was met with was the lapping of the ocean against her tiny rowboat. She knew it wouldn’t have been worth it to try and row all the way to the African coast. She had pinpointed exactly where she was in the ocean, using a means that was far beyond her own understanding. Everything having to do with her senses and the ocean was based on intuition. She wasn’t quite sure where this information came from, and she wasn’t sure how in the world she knew so much about the sea when she never had before. But it must have had something to do with Calypso.

She had decided against rowing to shore, even though she knew exactly where she was in the ocean. She had no food, no fresh water, and only the clothes on her back. Her hat did shield her from the sun a bit, but that was the only good thing she could think of that she had. And yet, she wouldn’t row to shore. As much as she was beginning to doubt herself, she still wouldn’t leave her spot. She was waiting for something. She didn’t know what it was, but she could still feel it, rather faintly.

It didn’t come very quickly. It took its time, as if she had nothing better to do than float in the middle of the sea. But it did come. For a while, the feeling was very faint, and she could only barely make out that it was even there, that it even existed. Then suddenly, after about a week and a half, it became more prominent. It only grew after that point, and then, there came a time when it was no longer a feeling, but a tangible entity, as the silhouette of a large ship loomed through the fog of the early morning.

Geneva stood in the rowboat and shouted across the ocean to it. She knew they couldn’t hear her, but they were coming her way to begin with. Soon enough, the ship passed about fifty meters from her measly little boat, and she finally caught its attention. There were shouts aboard the huge vessel, and Geneva grabbed the oars and began rowing hard and fast toward the ship.

The ship’s main sails were tied up in order to slow it down, and when Geneva had finally reached the starboard side, they threw a few ropes down for her to grab hold of and climb up. She was rather pleased with this find. The ship appeared to be headed north, which was absolutely fine by her.

A few men pulled her over the railing, and her act began. She landed hard on the hull and winced, groaning a bit.

"Good grief, lad!" exclaimed a man behind her, pulling her up to her feet. "How long have you been in that tiny thing?"

"He’s thinner than a stick!" said another man. "Must have been weeks!"

"Captain!" called another voice. "You’d better take a look at him!"

More soft exclamations made their way through the crew, all of them seeming to come from men of various British backgrounds, but British nonetheless. Within a few moments, Geneva had pinpointed where a few men were possibly raised in Britain.

A man with longer black hair and a rather plain but suitable hat pushed his way through the crew toward her. His face was tanned and quite dirty, but he was dressed quite well. He had light brown boots that came up to his knees, and a long, deep brown coat that came down to his calves. Underneath his jacket was a white tunic which had a collar that tied in the front, somewhat like Geneva’s, and that was tucked into his dark colored trousers. He was a plain sort of man, but he had a different air than most of the people Geneva had come across so far. He was rather young, probably in his late twenties at most.

As he stood before her, he looked her up and down, a suspicious look playing across his face.

"What’s your name, sailor?" he asked, not bothering to really look Geneva in the face. He was still inspecting her.

"George Mason, sir," she said, perfectly matching the accent of the man to her right. It didn’t really matter what British accent she copied. As long as she was British, these people would probably be more accepting of her being on the ship.

"George Mason," repeated the captain, muttering to himself as he studied her. He finally looked at her face after some time. "How long have you been out here?"

"I’m not sure," Geneva stammered. "I think it was nearing a couple of weeks now."

"And you’re still alive?" the captain asked, rather surprised.

"I think so..." Geneva said, returning the captain’s look with a confused expression of her own.

"How in the world did you end up in the middle of the ocean, lad?" the captain went on, eyeing the swords at her sides.

"I escaped from a pirate ship, sir," she said, almost shivering. "They was going to kill me, they was. I heard them talkin’ about it. So I took a rowboat when nobody was watchin’ and I got away."

The captain said nothing, and for a moment, Geneva saw a different look in his eyes. He seemed convinced, but she wasn’t sure he was entirely. She’d have to be careful.

"Oh, please, sir, don’t throw me overboard," Geneva begged, stepping weakly toward the captain, panic rising in her voice. "I thought I was going to die out there! I think I would have died if your ship hadn’t come along and—!"

"You won’t be thrown overboard, you imbecile," said another man, gruffly pulling her backward away from the captain, who recoiled a bit from her in annoyed disgust. "Will he, sir?"

The captain didn’t say anything and looked about at the crew.

"What are we going to do with him, Captain?" asked another man who was by the captain, probably the first mate. The captain hesitated, shriveling his nose at the thought of having to make a choice.

"Have him swab," he muttered, and immediately, the first mate grabbed Geneva by the shoulders, gave her a "welcome aboard the  _Wicked Wench_ ," and sent her off to work with a pail and rag. Another man gave her a generous amount of hardtack, which she was grateful for, and she was glad that it wasn’t soggy or infected with bugs. She was beginning to become more used to that food as time went on.

For a while, nobody really seemed bothered by her presence on the ship. Nobody seemed suspicious, and she kept to herself for the most part. She was able to swab the decks quite easily, as she had become good at it over her time aboard ships. As a result, the decks were kept quite a bit cleaner than normal, which nobody seemed to complain about. The ship was rather large and nice looking, and it looked even nicer with a clean deck.

So, it went on like that for about a week. Her sole job on the ship was to swab the decks, and occasionally, she got to help with actual work on the ship. She had never done much as far as working a ship, but she understood exactly how ships worked. They were intriguing to watch, and she enjoyed the chance to help, even though it was certainly a bit difficult. It required a degree of precision, and there was very little margin for error, as it was under most captains, so most of the time, Geneva learned by watching.

She hadn’t quite been on the  _Wicked Wench_  long enough to know very much about the captain. She didn’t see a whole lot of the man either, as he kept to himself most of the time. This wasn’t to say that he was a very shy individual at all, for he could be quite outspoken. He seemed to know what he was talking about, though, and he was respected aboard the ship.

It was a bit odd that Geneva still didn’t know his name, though. Not once had she ever heard any of the crew call him by his name at all; they only referred to him as "captain" or "sir," at least from what she heard. So, she knew what ship she was on, but she had no clue who the captain was.

That wasn’t the only odd thing she encountered, though. The longer she spent on the ship, the more she realized that although it appeared to be a British ship, it didn’t seem to be manned by people who had deep loyalty in the British crown. The ship wasn’t specifically marked as a pirate ship, but it had the air of one, and Geneva wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from. It did give her a reason to wonder where the ship was actually headed, although it seemed to be headed north as things stood at the moment.

The more suspicious Geneva became, the more little details seemed to stand out to her. She spent her time secretly observing the crew, but mostly the captain, only to find that she was being observed by him. She knew that he wasn’t entirely convinced by her act. And, judging from the fact that she had been getting an odd feeling about the ship for a while now, he must have been studying her for longer than she had been studying him. She didn’t have any choice now but to try and act as close to character as possible. She would give him no reason to suspect her.

She could almost feel when he was watching her every passing day. He really was being tough. At this point, she wasn’t sure whether she was going to be safe much longer. No one else seemed to be acting hostile toward her at all, but if the captain was the one that called the shots, she could easily be overpowered by his orders. She really didn’t like this situation at all, but at the moment, she couldn’t do anything about it except wait.

* * *

 

Geneva was swabbing the decks that morning, just as she did every morning. It had been just over a week since her arrival on the  _Wicked Wench_. At the moment, she wasn’t feeling any odd vibes, and she guessed that the captain wasn’t watching her, which gave her a bit of relief.

She was on the port side, scrubbing near some cannons. She stood up and examined the progress that she had made across that entire side. It had only taken her about an hour to do that, and she was proud of herself for being able to do such an annoying task so easily. Satisfied with her work, she crossed over to the starboard side and began the process again, starting this time on the end closest to the poop of the ship.

Just as she was beginning, she heard boots coming down the steps from the poop deck right behind her, and she turned and saw the captain sauntering in her direction. She paid no real mind to him, nodding toward him in acknowledgment and peeking at him from under the brim of her hat. He didn’t pay too much attention to her, and instead wiped his finger across the railing. He inspected it, raised an eyebrow, and passed her, not saying a word. Geneva looked at the railing to see if there was any debris that she had missed so far, which she hadn’t. Just as she was turning about to look after the captain, she felt her hat being knocked off her head. She hadn’t taken it off since she'd gotten there, simply because it hid her face from view rather well.

"You’re a bit too good at swabbing, lad," said the captain, and Geneva immediately recognized the feeling of her dagger hilt brushing the skin under her breast. She kept it hidden and out of sight, that way she could grab it if she needed too in a desperate situation, as this one was probably about to turn into.

"Am I?" she replied, inquisitively, her voice just beckoning the captain to go on. She knew this captain was different from the ones she’d outsmarted before. He wouldn’t be easily outsmarted. She slowly reached for her sword, trying to do it nonchalantly.

"Easy, love," the man said, putting his hands up. "I’m not about to throw myself into a fight with the likes of you. That is, if you are who I think you are."

Geneva stopped and raised her eyebrows at him, an amused expression playing across her face. She dropped her male disguise, but kept her accent.

"If I am who you think I am?" she inquired in her regular female pitch of voice. The captain looked her up and down, and then flashed a rather charming smile.

"If you are who I think you are," the man repeated in confirmation. He was sly. But so was she. Geneva said nothing, and only looked at him, waiting to see what he’d say. He studied her for a moment longer.

"You are the sea lioness," the man said slowly, and Geneva smiled.

"That’s a generous title you’ve bestowed upon me, Captain," she replied, crossing her arms. She was quite amused with this man.

"And your name is _not_  George Mason," he went on. "Although you almost had me convinced at the very beginning." Geneva rose an eyebrow.

"What gave me away?" she asked.

"Like I said," the captain replied. "You swab too well." Geneva smiled coyly. This man was something else.

"So," he continued, taking a step towards her. "What’s the sea lioness’ real name?"

"Geneva Dalma," she said slowly, really eyeing the man. She still had her guard up.

"I like that name," he said, smiling coyly. "Geneva. It’s a French name, I believe. But that doesn’t necessarily constitute that you’re French at all."

"And you are?" Geneva said, ignoring his attempts at flirtation.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," he replied, putting extra emphasis on the ‘captain’ bit. Now, she had what she needed.

"You’re quite young for a captain," she tempted him, and he took that bait without even batting an eye.

"But I am good at it, aren’t I?" he said, looking into her eyes, and she imprinted on him. He didn’t even notice.

"I’ve hardly been here long enough to testify to that myself," she chuckled, and Jack’s smile became coy again.

"Ah, but you’re a temptress," he said. "Your senses are said to be higher than those of a normal human."

"How is it that you know so much of me?" she asked, looking him in the eye with purpose. She had only been in Asia for five years, and already her name was spreading about the entire world?

"You’ve become quite talked about," Jack murmured, getting even closer to her. "But that shouldn’t come as a surprise." Geneva mentally rolled her eyes. But if romancing him was a way to get information, then she couldn’t pass it up.

"You are a flirt, aren’t you?" she said, leaning backward against the railing. He took the invitation and stepped closer.

"Nonsense, love," he continued. "I am, in fact, quite sincere when it comes to women."

"How unfortunate," she whispered, reeling him in. "Isn’t it bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship?"

"A mere superstition," he said. "Not only that; there’s a distinct difference between a woman and a pirate woman."

"A pirate woman?" Geneva inquired, and Jack smiled, pulling back some. He had gotten quite close to her. Now, she could breathe again.

"Certainly, love," he continued. "You’re a very well known one at that. There is good reason to fear a pirate woman such as yourself being aboard a ship, as opposed to just any woman. I’m sure you don’t carry those swords just for show."

Geneva smiled, suggesting that was indeed true. "So, what do you plan to do with me then?" she asked, just toying with him at this point.

"There’s not much that I can do," Jack replied nonchalantly. "Actually, I would rather  _not_  try to force you off the ship. Even I don’t want to put these sea rumors to the test."

Geneva liked this. These stories made her feel secure and powerful, and it made people hesitant to take her on, simply because they didn’t want to risk it.

"That’s certainly no fun," Geneva pouted. But she was not interested in fighting at the moment. She wanted to know more about the ship. Something seemed very different about it.

"Where is this ship headed?" Geneva asked, and Jack turned back toward her.

"Tortuga," he replied.

"Tortuga?" Geneva inquired. She had never heard of that place before. Jack noticed her look of ignorance and smiled.

"You  _are_  a young pirate," he said, and she could only smile inwardly at the ignorance on his part. She was much older than she appeared.

"I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it," Jack went on. "It’s pirate heaven. Always rum, girls, and fights. Just full of pirates."

Geneva only listened as he described it. He spoke quite a bit about the fact that there was plenty of rum, which wasn’t all too important to Geneva. What did catch her attention was that it was a pirate island.

She hadn’t really been sure about calling herself a pirate, but if this man—who was very likely a pirate himself—was calling her a pirate, then she must have been one. This only made her more interested in Tortuga.

She smiled. Somehow, her intuition seemed to serve her better than she ever anticipated it would.


	10. Chapter 10

The crew of the _Wicked Wench_ made no attempt to maroon the sea lioness, despite the fact that she was a woman. This was partially due to Jack’s specific orders _not_ to maroon her, but mainly because the crew was quite superstitious. They wanted nothing to do with her, but didn’t want to risk doing anything about her either. So, they just avoided her as much as possible.

So, the trip to Tortuga was quiet, which didn’t bother Geneva all that much. It took only a couple of weeks to get there, simply because the winds were in their favor for most of the way there. When they finally pulled into the port, Geneva could see that this town was much rowdier than she could have imagined.

Jack’s description did it some justice, but it was a sight that could only be believed upon witnessing it personally. It was very loud, and very dirty. Men ran about, drank until they fell over, and wenches were ever present in the bawdy atmosphere. It was certainly cringe-worthy. But, it did present plentiful opportunities.

Upon their arrival, Geneva decided to go about her own business in Tortuga, leaving Jack behind. Jack was not particularly opposed to getting her off the ship, and they all went their separate ways. Geneva didn’t really know his real purpose in Tortuga for herself, but she didn’t have interest enough to ask. She was only interested in her own purposes at the moment, and right now, she wanted to remain under cover.

She kept her male disguise on at all times around here. Being a woman on such a rowdy island was probably not the best of fates. She had considered that perhaps she didn’t need the disguise anymore, considering that Jack had known very well what she was capable of when they had never met before. But, she couldn’t be certain that everyone in Tortuga knew her and what she was capable of, so she had to remain cautious. She didn’t want to be treated as a wench. She just wanted to further her pirate career.

Unfortunately, although she was quite good at stowing away on ships without being noticed, she realized that if she was ever to further herself in the pirate world, she’d have to really become one, which meant that she’d have to join a crew. Certainly, she couldn’t do so as a woman, so she did so as a man.

She spent months sailing about on different pirate ships, not really making any real contracts or agreements to stay aboard for long periods of time. She couldn’t be confined to just one ship for too long. Being in one place for an exorbitant amount of time bored her to death. When the ship made it to port somewhere, she’d abandon that crew and join another one. It turned out that there were quite a few pirate islands that peppered the Caribbean Sea, so getting around was much easier than she originally thought it would be.

For a good part of a year, Geneva made her way around the Caribbean with no problem. She knew the layout of the sea very well, and became even more familiar with ship hierarchy. Although she was never very high up in the unofficial ranking system, she knew very well how it worked, and she learned by observation.

Because she never had a very high rank, Geneva was easily expendable, which was why she never worried about being chased as she abandoned one crew for another. The old crew didn’t really miss her, and the new crew didn’t really care that she joined. Another hand on deck wasn’t all too big a deal one way or another.

But there did come one instance that forever changed her status in the pirate world. She joined a crew, just like she always did every few months or so. This one was no different from any other crew she had ever been a part of. They let her join easily, and then, they were on their way out to sea, off to nowhere of particular interest to Geneva.

But, somehow the captain got suspicious. Geneva wasn’t really sure how or why, but he did, and that suspicion slowly spread. Geneva had expected that she’d be able to make a break for it as she normally did, but things happened much faster than she had anticipated.

The captain confronted her, and it surprised her. But, she realized that the crew only thought she was a woman on board, and had no idea who she really was. She was at an advantage in that sense, but her only disadvantages were that the crew was big and they were pirates. Unlike Jack, they weren’t about to give her any mercy. They didn’t know what she was capable of. And they planned on killing her.

So, she used her swords.

She made a bloody mess of about a third of the crew, including the captain and the first few mates. She had never done anything comparable to this in her life, so it came as a shock to her that she was able to take on so many men at once, many of which knew how to sword fight to a reasonable degree.

But that wasn't nearly as shocking as what happened after that. The remaining crew was struck with such terror that they didn’t know what to do. They had absolutely no leadership, and were completely at a loss as far as their next course of action. So, one of the lowly members began to address her as captain, and asked her where she wanted to set sail toward.

This definitely surprised her more than anything, but she eagerly took the position. The crew was afraid, and it was the only thing they could possibly do to appease her now. Appease her it did, though, as she was quick to address the measly swashbuckler as her first mate and order the crew to prepare the sails to head for Tortuga.

She really couldn’t help herself. The position as captain was far too tempting, and she severely outranked her former self. In a matter of seconds, she had gone from the bottom of the ladder to the top, and she couldn’t accept that kind of success without smiling, letting out her hair, and standing atop the rail of the quarterdeck, above all others, and allowing the gusts of salty wind to flow through her and catch the sails of her soul.


	11. Chapter 11

A stunning black ship with black sails made port in Tortuga. It had been a few years now since Jack had been in Tortuga. But now that he was off clear, he could go wherever he pleased. The only problem was that he didn’t have a crew, so he naturally went to the best place he could think of to find one.

Normally, he liked to recruit people he knew formerly. Jack Sparrow knew a lot of people. Finding them was the difficult part. He only picked Tortuga because he knew it was a general hub of activity for all pirates.

He found a few old mates and a few new ones, but he did have his eyes open for someone else in particular. On any normal day, Jack would have never recruited her, but stories about the gal had been circulating like wildfire lately. She really was a pirate worth having aboard, so Jack had to look for her. He knew she had to be around Tortuga somewhere. The only question was, where?

Jack left the crew to ready his ship, which was sitting in the harbor, and he scoured the island for her. He knew that having her as a crew member would be very advantageous to him, but there was also a catch. This was a sea lioness he was dealing with. The rumors were often correct: she didn’t stay in one place for long. She was said to be unreadable, and yet, she was very literate when it came to reading others. She had become quite dangerous in those three years since Jack dropped her off in Tortuga.

Jack walked into a shady, tough-looking tavern. He eyed the corners of the rooms, and then every other place he could think of. Then, he headed upstairs to the second floor and scrounged every crevice there. Still, he could not find her. He had a good feeling that she was in Tortuga, but if he couldn’t find her, he couldn’t find her. It just didn’t seem quite right.

Just as he was coming back down the stairs, he noticed a man with long red hair leaning against the railing, seemingly minding his own business. Jack slowed his step, and smiled. He reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner to face the lad.

"What’s a rather scrawny lad doing in such a burly tavern?" Jack asked smoothly. The man didn’t look up at him, but he smiled. Jack knew there was only one way to make sure this was her.

He pulled his sword from its hilt and pointed it at the man, who had already pulled out his sword in anticipation. This was her.

"Geneva," Jack said softly, and she looked up at him enough so that he could see her crazy green eyes.

"Jack," she replied, a grin tugging at the corners of her full lips. She was a beauty, but a dangerous one. Jack really couldn’t help himself.

"I knew I’d find you here," he continued, sheathing his sword. She did the same, and he took a step closer to her.

"Did you?" she inquired, her eyes only beckoning him more.

"Oh, yes, love," he said, coming even closer to her. She was irresistible, even to him.

Before he knew it, she had a dagger pointed at his throat, which kept him from advancing. He could only smile nervously. Her face was painted with a knowing, but very authoritative expression. Her grin only confirmed this. She held a position of power over many men.

"What is your purpose?" she asked quietly, and Jack smile in response, doing his best to ignore the dagger.

"I need a crew," he said, and that was all he said. That was all she really needed to understand the circumstances. She turned her head to the side in thought, still keeping her eyes on him. She squinted at him.

"Promise me it’ll be interesting," she said lowly, keeping the dagger at his neck. Jack knew.

"It will be," he cooed, and then tried to pull back from the blade some. He liked his neck.

* * *

 

Geneva followed Jack to the harbor, and there, just as Jack had described, was the _Black Pearl_. It was a beautiful ship, but as the name also suggested, it was entirely black. She could hear the clamor of men already aboard, but this did not intimidate her. She walked up the ramp slightly behind the captain.

She certainly had a commanding presence, especially when she was not disguised as a man. Just as she stepped onto the main deck, she attracted the attention of almost all of the crew. Shock played across their faces, as she knew would happen. Jack had been right, and he didn’t even know it. This would be interesting.

"Captain!" exclaimed a few of the men, who she assumed were quite high in the ship’s hierarchy. One of them had a large black hat. He put up the biggest fight.

"We can’t have _her_ aboard," he demanded. He was quite a bit older than Jack, but still moved around just fine. He looked experienced. Geneva only watched him.

"Why not?" Jack asked, rather amusedly shocked at his subordinate’s reaction. The man held his ground.

"She’s a witch, Jack," he said gruffly. Jack cocked his head.

"She is not," the captain replied. "I know her. She poses no threat."

"As first mate, I’m warning you, Jack," the man persisted. "She’s a dangerous lot."

"Well of course she’s dangerous, Hector," Jack mused. "I know how to pick dangerous mates. Don’t you think that was my intention?"

"Still," Hector said sternly. "I won’t be stayin’ aboard the ship with the likes of her here."

"Then I’ll gladly _take_ the first mate’s position," Geneva interrupted, catching the attention of both men. "If he’ll give it up so easily, there’s nothing to him."

Hector glared at her, but she was unfazed. A grin played across her face. She loved where this was going. She was in total control.

He suddenly pulled out his sword and pointed it at her. She remained extremely calm, not bothering to pull out hers yet.

"You challenge me?" Hector growled. He would be formidable. This was only exciting to her.

"I think it’s you who have challenged me," she said lowly, grinning even wider and pulling out her prized Spanish rapier. Hector only squinted his eyes. He was being careful.

"I don’t think this is what you want to do, Barbossa," Jack whispered to the man. Barbossa turned gruffly.

" _You_ brought her here," he hissed.

"It’s a bad idea," Jack warned, and Geneva looked at Jack now, a fire in her eyes.

"If you interfere, I will fight both of you at once," she suggested, and Jack took a step back. He wanted nothing to do with that.

Barbossa took a step toward her, and she turned her attention back to him.

Then, he sprang toward her, putting his body into the swing. Her sword met his and they locked. She found his eyes and imprinted on him. Then, she jumped back, and grinned in amusement.

This time, she swung first, and their swords met again. He parried. She dodged and jumped backward, and then charged. There was another clamor as their swords struck one another. His breath was shaky. He was not expecting her to be this good.

Adrenalin flew through her veins. She’d never felt so alive. She jumped off a barrel and dodged another swing. He chased her to the port side, and she turned and faced him again. She lunged first and swung wildly. She was too fast. He couldn’t keep up with her like this. Her form was unpredictable. He needed an advantage.

He pulled a sword off the hilt of another man and thrust it at her, but she pulled out her cutlass and met it immediately, like she had seen it coming. With another swift movement, she knocked it out of his hand almost as quickly as he had gotten it. This woman was something else entirely.

Another crew member tried to join in the fight. She cut him down without batting an eye. Barbossa grabbed his sword as the man fell, and brought it up to block the swing of her rapier. Her eyes could see right through him. She swung hard, but she didn’t knock the sword out of his hand.

She jumped backwards to avoid his advances, and suddenly, a different look appeared in her eye. Barbossa took advantage of this and charged towards her. She tried to block, but her cutlass flew from her grasp.

She watched her cutlass roll away from her, and she quickly blocked his next swing, despite the fact that he had one more sword than she did now. There was something else in his look. There was a reason behind his eyes. She wasn’t interested in his position anymore. She saw something she liked more than fighting him. So, she was prepared to lose in order to win.

He could not see this. He only saw an opening in her form: a weakness to take advantage of. She dodged again, for all she could do was dodge with only one sword. He soon had her cornered, and knocked her rapier away as well. She had no defenses left, and stood there as he pointed his sword at her neck. Yet, she was unafraid, and she smiled.

"You put up a riveting fight," she commented, her eyes sharper than the sword at her neck. Barbossa could only feel confusion at her response, and she could see this easily. She could feel it.

"That was quite enjoyable," she continued, her voice soft and flowing. Her smile softened, but her eyes were still keen with purpose, and he could not ignore that.

"I can see why you’re the first mate," she said, and her charm reached his heart, captivating it far too quickly. Barbossa lowered his sword, and she walked past him to collect her swords. He had beat her, and yet, she had somehow won still. He couldn’t put his finger on it. But he couldn’t get the look of her piercing eyes out of his head, and for a clouded array of reasons he couldn’t begin to place.


	12. Chapter 12

Geneva had never been given a reason as to why Jack had recruited her. So, at this point, she was slightly curious as to what he was after. But she was also curious as to what Barbossa was after. He was definitely after something; Geneva could sense it. She certainly enjoyed a good fight when she got her hands on a good opponent, but there was far more value in Barbossa than just a good fight.

Jack and Barbossa were different. The more she was around them, the more she could sense their differences. And what intrigued her the most was that their interests were becoming more distant as time went on. But when Jack revealed what his goal was, that’s when Geneva knew what was going on.

The crew was after the cursed Treasure of Cortes. Geneva had never had an interest in riches, so she had never heard of it, but the treasure was quite popular in pirate folklore. It was Aztec gold, a whole chest of it. But, it was said that each piece of that gold was laden with a horrible curse.

"Ridiculous superstition!" Barbossa scoffed, after Jack had told the tale in full, and Jack nodded in agreement.

"That’s exactly what I think!" he replied eagerly. "So, then, we’re in the same boat!"

Barbossa stared at him, and sighed annoyedly, ignoring Jack’s play on words.

"How do we get there?" Barbossa persisted, moving the conversation back into its prior seriousness. Jack thought for a moment.

"I have all we need to get there," he said, pulling out his compass. "And _that_ , mate, is our heading." Jack shook the compass, opened it and looked at it. Then, he pointed in a south-east direction.

"That way," he said, and Barbossa rolled his eyes. Jack didn’t see. But Geneva did. She wasn’t exactly in the conversation, but she could definitely hear the whole thing, and she liked what she saw. The first mate was really making things interesting for her.

She knew Barbossa was up to something. He didn’t exactly get along with Jack, and the captain was somewhat blind to this. It was an enjoyable thing to witness. Geneva was only waiting now.

It came as no surprise to her when Barbossa continued to push the captain. Only a few days after the ship set sail, the first mate pestered Jack again, this time for the coordinates of Isla de Muerta, the island where the accursed treasure was said to lay. He demanded that everything be of equal share. Jack, being quite young still, agreed and gave Barbossa the coordinates. Geneva knew what was coming next.

She really didn’t have a position aboard the ship, but Barbossa came up to her a day afterward and struck up a deal. She had expected it. She knew what was going on in his mind before he even said it. His plans only furthered her own. So, she agreed to take part in the mutiny.

Jack, unfortunately, had not seen it coming. He was rudely dragged out of his cabin at an early hour and thrown into the brig for safekeeping, while Barbossa found a nice place to maroon him. Geneva did not participate in the first stage of mutiny, simply because she didn’t want to get her hands dirty. The crew that Jack had chosen was not to her liking, so she stayed rather aloof.

Under Barbossa, she wasn’t exactly first mate, but she was definitely first on his list of trustworthy hands. Her hypnosis had gained her special treatment from him, much to the crew’s dismay, and Jack’s mutiny put her even higher on the totem pole, so she had accepted Hector’s offer for that reason alone. But, when Barbossa gave her the honor of booting Jack off the ship, there was no way for her to back out of participation. It was the only way to affirm her position aboard the ship.

Although Jack hadn’t seen the mutiny coming, he definitely expected Geneva to be part of it, if anybody. And he took that chance to try and make her feel guilty. As she advanced toward him on the sunbaked deck, a lonely strip of land in the distance behind him, he spoke up.

"You are quite the pirate, aren’t you, love?" he said, trying to flash a smile.

"Ha. What, you didn’t expect this, Jack?"

"I’d be lying if I said I did."

"Well," she said, leaning in close to him so that he could see every detail of her fiery eyes. "Just so you don’t believe that I’m quite as heartless as I seem, I’ll let you in on a bit of a secret."

"Oh, really?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She crossed her arms comfortably across her chest. Jack only wished that he had gotten to make further advances on her. She was too handsome to pass up, even clad in men’s clothing.

"It wasn’t just business that led me to make this decision. It was a bit more personal."

"Oh. Well that’s comforting."

"I don’t happen to have any good reasons to like you a whole lot."

"Oh," he said quietly, eyebrows raised thoughtfully. He then scrunched them again. "Well, I don’t exactly mutineers very much, so I suppose I don’t like you too much either."

"Well, then we have an accord, don’t we?" Geneva said lowly, grinning. She had a look in her eye. Jack didn’t like that look. She was too smart, and it really bothered him. She would be a problem later on, that is, if he ever saw humanity again. But he didn’t have a whole lot of time to ponder on it, because he felt the sole of her boot swiftly shove him off the side of the ship, and he plunged downward into the ocean.


	13. Chapter 13

Undoubtedly, Geneva’s act had earned her the trust of captain. Barbossa immediately granted her special treatment aboard the ship, and she could not complain. The man had certainly been raised to treat women with decent respect. With her special treatment also came protection, and Geneva gladly accepted this without hesitation, for the rest of the crew, although not especially superstitious, was wary of her.

They generally refrained from bothering her, especially when Barbossa was near, but she could sense their discontentment with her presence. She normally didn’t let that kind of premonition bother her, but she felt the need to prove herself: not worthy, but capable. She was already dangerous, clearly. But she was looking for respect, something which she had not yet gained from the mutinous crew.

Certainly though, there was something far more desirable on their minds. Their greed was evident. The treasure’s coordinates were theirs, and there was no hesitation from any crew member to set sail in the direction of Isla de Muerta.

Geneva didn’t participate in the work aboard the ship all too often. Barbossa had granted her an unspoken immunity from sailors’ work. She knew that he had taken a special liking to her. He did all that he could verbally to please her and spoil her. He never uttered her real name, but instead referred to her affectionately as "lassie." Hector had certainly taken note of the fact that Geneva appeared to be much younger than he was, so his pet name for her was a conscious reminder of their severe age difference.

Along with his flirtation towards her, the captain generously gave her a room to herself, which was situated just off from his cabin, undoubtedly for reasons which Geneva didn’t have to ponder. It was a nice, comfortable bit of a room, as it was furnished with the nicest finds on board the ship at the time: a chair, a tall mirror, and a reasonably comfortable bed with fairly warm sheets. It wasn’t by any means extravagant, but in context of what the ship had, it was much nicer than all of the crew’s quarters combined.

Geneva enjoyed Barbossa’s favor of her. He had an interesting character. He was quite an intelligent man, and although he wasn’t the most handsome of men, knew how to use words, and excelled in coquetry. He was adamant to pursue her, and though Geneva wasn’t exactly looking for a partner, she figured that she could ride her way to the top of the ladder much faster than she could climb on her own.

The _Black Pearl_ made her arrival at Isla de Muerta with good time. There was a fog upon the rocky island, hardly framing it with cheerfulness. It was not what Geneva had imagined it would be, but certainly it was foreboding. It sat rather lifeless in the middle of a dense cloud, hardly visible from even a mile away, and the closer the ship came, the more dead it looked.

"I wonder why it’s called Island of the Dead," Geneva murmured to herself, looking upon the blackened, murky rocks, not really asking, but guessing that there was a very related answer. Certainly names were not bestowed without some kind of reason, and the Spanish were not fools when it came to this island in particular.

The anchor was dropped and the crew hastily lowered a couple of rowboats into the unsettling waters. Geneva brought herself along to see, for she had never laid eyes upon any gold before. The wonders of riches as Hector described them were admittedly beyond his vocabulary, and he beckoned her to see for herself, so she couldn’t refuse.

The island’s geography was such that it was useless to climb atop the steep, jagged rocks. After some searching though, the crew finally found an entrance to a cave, and went inside. It was dark and wet, the sounds of dripping water echoing enough for Geneva to realize how deep the cave really was. The crew eventually lit some torches to better continue through the tunnels without stumbling about, and once that kind of order was established, Barbossa made his way to the front of the brigade, his lass holding onto him by his arm.

They finally made it into a large expanse in the cave, and the torchlight glinted on the surfaces of fine gold cups and statues, physically arousing gasps from the men. As Barbossa pushed forward, more of the crew behind him shuffled in to touch the cups and trinkets and stow some away in their shirts. Barbossa ordered more torches to be lit, and this was done quickly, revealing the grandeur of the riches they had found. Goblets and coins sat in piles, and gorges of jewelry and golden figures tumbled over rocks and into puddles of water.

But, atop the grandest mountain of treasures was a solid gold chest, wet and glimmering with temptation. Barbossa immediately headed forward to the trove, and Geneva followed him, the rest of the crew fishing through the rolling hills of riches.

Barbossa opened the top of the chest and peered inside, and suddenly, the room was quiet. Geneva could only stare. Barbossa ran his grimy fingers across the top of the gold pieces, making them clink together. The crew gravitated toward the chest. The captain’s eyes were filled with awe. He picked up a handful of the coins and held them up for the crew to see. There were subconscious whispers of awe as he let them drop into the chest again. It was filled to the brim with these coins. There had to be hundreds of them.

"Take what you wish back to the ship, gents," Barbossa said finally, greed dripping from his voice like the froth from a rabid mutt. "But first, bring this chest of medallions." A few men heeded the captain’s orders and headed up the pile of gold to retrieve the chest. Geneva sat behind the chest, reading the inscription on it. It was in an old Spanish dialect, and she could barely understand it, but that was because it was written cryptically. The figurative meaning was not blatant, so literal meaning was the first thing she could read, and it didn’t make much sense.

The men heaved at the chest, but they could not lift it. They tried again, groaning and complaining, but to no avail.

"It can’t be lifted," Geneva said, continuing to squint at the side of the chest. "It’s bound here by the gods of the earth." That was the most she could get out of the first line. It seemed to make some sense.

"Then get bags and take the coins with you," commanded Barbossa, and the men nodded, returning to the ship to get bags for the gold and for whatever else they wanted to bring. Then, the captain turned back to face Geneva, who was still crouching behind the chest, trying to decipher the meaning.

"You can figure out what it says, can you?" Barbossa asked, picking up a few coins in his hand and rubbing them.

"It’s not obvious," she replied, continuing to stare at the words before her. "It’s Old Spanish, and some of these characters I’ve never seen before."

Barbossa made a grunt of acknowledgment, continuing to sift through the coins.

"Some of what it says doesn’t make any sense," she continued, standing up with an unsure expression on her face. "But it does seem to mention some kind of curse."

Barbossa scoffed. "Many curses are empty in nature," he said, lifting up a coin and examining it. "Used by the jealous to scare off the worthy."

"Even when gods are involved?" questioned Geneva, and Barbossa looked at her with unconvinced inquisition.

"‘Thieves of the Sun shall be damned by the Moon,’" she read off the side of the chest, and Barbossa sighed. She continued. "It’s a rough translation, but if that doesn’t sound foreboding, I don’t know what does."

"Lassie," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her gently towards him. "If it’s in Old Spanish, it was written by men. And men are terrible at hiding treasure. If it were truly cursed by the gods, we’d have never found it, and the gods would have it for themselves." Geneva doubted that was the case, but said nothing, absent-mindedly allowing Barbossa’s hand to caress the skin of her neck.

"But here we are," he chuckled. "And it belongs to us now. So, an unlucky man is left to wade in bitterness while we bathe in glory." She looked up at him, and he brushed her cheek assuredly before returning to order the crew to begin filling the bags with coins.

Geneva stayed back from it all. She, unlike Barbossa, knew that heathen gods indulged in watching men succumb to their curses. They toyed with men like felines and helpless rodents. So, she didn’t touch the gold. She didn’t know what the curse meant, but she didn’t want to find out personally.

Barbossa didn’t mind that Geneva hadn’t bothered in helping with the gold. She was a woman, and he wasn’t going to have her dirtying her hands with the object of the crew’s greed. He found a pure woman far more of a prize than a tainted concubine anyway, so he was glad to let her do what she wanted. She was happier that way, and Barbossa wasn’t opposed to that. It was also quite evident to him that she wasn’t all that interested in the gold in the first place.

He had already figured out that Geneva wasn’t easily controlled. She didn’t show it very often, but she had a spirit that couldn’t be tamed, no matter how hard he tried. She was extremely evasive without ever looking like she was, so he couldn’t get a purpose out of her, even if he tried to flatter one out of her. He had guessed that she was after something larger than herself, though, and that was a rather broad conclusion to begin with, so he stopped worrying himself with it. She didn’t have the power to massacre a crew of the _Pearl’_ s size or caliber, nor did she appear to have the incentive. As far as he could tell, she was just enjoying the attention, and he had plenty more of it to give her.

The crew took piles of the filth back with them to the _Pearl_. They took trips back and forth from the cave to drag more of it on board, until there was hardly anything left in the cave. Then, they sailed back in the direction of civilization and made straight for the merchants and vendors.

Each man aboard was given a sum of gold to call their own, with the captain getting the most, of course. The ship sailed all about Europe and the Atlantic, buying all kinds of goods with their newly found wealth. They bought every kind of extravagant thing, from jewelry to food, furniture to rum, clothing to pleasurable company.

Geneva didn’t participate too much in the excessive spending. The acquisition of material goods wasn’t all that important to her, for she had lived most of her life with little more than what was on her back. She was used to barely getting by, and although she wasn’t opposed to an extravagant lifestyle, she had a different view on what made life so exciting, and it wasn’t laden with the rich wooden furniture, heavy tasseled drapery, and fine dining of the upper class.

Barbossa felt the need to shower Geneva with her share of gifts, however, and began a new habit of spoiling her with materialistic things, all of which things he admired when adorned upon a fair lady. He couldn’t pass up on any chance to pamper her, whether by means of expensive furnishings or handsome dresses. He found a beautiful burgundy dress with untouchably soft fabric and deep black lace in Spain, and immediately gave it to her as one of the most expensive items he bought for her. Geneva really hadn’t worn dresses for a long time, but it was certainly a find in itself, and she decided she would appease him for a while. She didn’t have anything better to do at the time.

The moment she put it on, though, she had begun a list of reasons in her mind why she wanted to take it off. It was as comfortable as a lady’s dress could get, but she didn’t appreciate her bosom being so visible to whomever wished to look at her. She felt as though she was reduced to mere eye candy, a shiny-coated race horse being paraded around for the highest bidder to slap it on the rump to see how high it would rear. It seemed Barbossa’s only purpose in getting her the dress was to see her in it, and then maybe to see her without it, and she wasn’t exactly in accord with that notion. She wore the dress long enough to please him, and then, she never wore it again.

Barbossa was not overly hurt by this action, for he already knew her nature with such things. She didn’t like to be the fool of the situation, and was very aware of how she looked in such a sultry dress. She was more interested in clothing that she could move about in, things that had practicality and purpose to them, and so, Barbossa bought her a nice little hat with a feather on it, after noting that she had an interest in extravagant looking hats. They were symbols of status, which was probably why she admired them, so he decided to indulge her interests so that she could better indulge his. Certainly, this was something that Geneva was not often seen without, and it was a gift that she actually appreciated. At this point, Barbossa knew her character, and was sure that she was not a simple child in need of attention or spoiling. She saw no use for impractical things, and found her enjoyment in the things that many men did: fame, glory, and influence.

The crew was not so understanding of her, however. Although they never quite voiced their opinions of her, she was nothing but a wretched vixen to them. She was something they couldn’t approach, heavily guarded by the dominant and territorial assertions of the captain, but they didn’t really want to, despite how tempting she really was. They never outrightly abused her in any way, but they bore this notion in mind whenever they were around her or spoke to her. They generally steered clear of her, and so she did for them as well. She was not fond of them, and neither were they of her, so there was constant rigidity.

There came a night where the crew had pushed off from port and headed out to sea again, floating pompously in their ark of riches out in the midst of open sea. There was nothing special happening that night, and the clouds from earlier storms were beginning to clear, allowing the moon to shine brightly down upon the beautiful ship. The _Black Pearl_ wore its highest majesty during these times, although there were too few onlookers to witness it, including the crew, who was too often down in the hull drinking and sleeping during these hours.

Geneva was bored of her cabin and had decided to go out to the deck to listen to the waves, when she met two imbecile swabbers known as Ragetti and Pintel, probably the most superstitious pair she’d ever met when it came to her association with witchcraft. They accused her of every wrongdoing when it came to mishaps and faulty supplies, on the ship or off, mainly because they didn’t want to bear such blame on their own shoulders.

She met them in the darkened hallway leading out from the stairs down to the hull and did her best to avoid them as she continued on toward the main deck, and they mimicked her, but with over-exaggerated caution. She was about to reprimand them for their stupidity until she noticed Barbossa’s pet monkey sitting oddly upon the deck.

Jack’s fur was matted and marred, and he looked as though he had been in some kind of vicious fight. He was incredibly thin, and in some areas, excessive amounts of his skeleton could be seen. It was a sight gruesome enough to make Geneva pause just at the edge of the sheltered darkness of the corridor, and Pintel and Ragetti did the same.

"What in God’s name happened to that thing?" muttered Pintel, astounded by the monkey’s ugly appearance.

"It looks half dead," Ragetti whimpered, and Jack looked up at them from the piece of food he was chewing at and squealed at them defensively. The men jumped, and Geneva looked down her nose at it in cautious meditation.

"Go touch it," Ragetti suggested, nominating nobody in particular. Pintel scoffed.

"Why would _I_ touch _that?_ " he snapped, and then he looked at Geneva.

" _You_ touch it!" he said, pointing a finger at her. Geneva looked back at him with disgust.

"I’d sooner shoot it," she asserted, making her refusal firm. A couple of men came up behind them in the hallway, hearing the conversation.

"You’re the spell woman!" Pintel shot back. "It won’t hurt _you_ if you touch it!"

"That thing bites everyone, you idiot," Geneva hissed at him, and Ragetti tried to shove her towards the half-dead primate, but she was stable on her feet and shoved him out onto the deck in retaliation.

Then, he turned to bones, and he screamed.

Everyone in the hall took a startled step backward. Ragetti continued to wave his arms about, looking at himself frantically. The men in the hall were in disbelief.

Pintel turned and snarled at Geneva. "You did that!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You cursed him!"

"What are you talking about?!" she exclaimed, dumbfounded at the notion that it was she who turned Ragetti into a clamoring set of bones. "I did nothing to him!"

"You touched him!" Pintel went on, howling now. More men were coming up the stairs from the hall to see what all the ruckus was about. There were murmurs going through the crowded corridor as the crew tried to figure out what was happening.

"She cursed him, I tell you!" Pintel went on, gesturing out towards Ragetti with his right arm, and as the moonlight hit his forearm, his skin dissolved down to the bone, and Pintel shrieked. He recoiled from Geneva and onto the deck, his whole body decaying into a skeletal form, causing shocked gasps from the onlookers in the hallway. Voices got louder, and the panic was beginning to rise. Geneva tore her eyes from the gut-wrenching scene and pushed her way frantically through the crew as they struggled to see what was happening, heading straight for Barbossa’s cabin.

"Captain Barbossa!" she yelled, bursting through the door without knocking. The captain grunted and sat up in his chair, startled out of his slumber.

"The men!" she spoke sharply in nervous frustration.

"What about the men?" Barbossa asked, slightly annoyed that he’d been awoken with such a start.

Geneva sighed impatiently, glancing quickly at the clamor of yells behind her, teeth clenched, before turning swiftly back to Hector.

"The men are turning to _bones_ ," she hissed softly, eyes wild with aggressive fear. " _Living bones!_ "

Barbossa stared at her in shock for a moment, and then stood up from his chair, shaking the grogginess from his head and hastily making his way towards the door where she stood. He brushed past her, and she followed him back out to the deck, where even more of the crew had transformed into living skeletons, wracked with rags and barely recognizable.

Barbossa could only stare in disbelief at the horde of them as they stumbled about the deck in a clumsy panic, witnesses to the terror begat all around them. They wailed at the abhorrent sight of themselves, their skin completely gone and no tissue of any value left except for measly strands of wet, decomposing hair, completely naked of blood and flesh down to the raw bone.

Ragetti cried out, "It was the witch! She touched me!" And a mob of accusations followed suit, tearing at the sea lioness, until Barbossa held up his hands to silence the crew, and stepped into the moonlight for himself.

His flesh corroded away, blood and all, and what remained was nothing but rags of his former self, his coat sitting upon empty shoulders, tattered and worn, his scraggly beard thin and pale with death. His eyes were sunken in and beady, dry and unable to blink, his teeth completely and hideously bared.

"The witch doesn’t turn to bones!" hissed a man, and Barbossa looked over at Geneva, who still stood in the shadows. She stepped into the moonlight, and nothing happened.

"If we’re all turning to bones and she’s not," the barbarous first mate growled. "Then she’s laid the curse on us!" Disgruntled murmurs circulated through the crew, and Geneva did her best to ignore them, turning to Barbossa, or what was left of him.

"Captain," she spoke, her voice low, but certain. "The curse. The Aztec gold." Barbossa didn’t say anything, and the crew silenced themselves. They all looked at her, waiting for her.

"I understand the curse now," she went on with careful intensity. "Thieves of the Sun shall be damned by the Moon—meaning, whosoever takes even a piece of the gold from the chest shall be damned to death without dying, their true nature revealed under the cold light of the moon."—she looked back at Barbossa—"The curse is real. This is it."

"Then why isn’t she a sack of bones too?" sputtered Pintel exasperatedly. Before Geneva could respond, Barbossa did so for her.

"She read the chest," Hector said. "And she didn’t touch the gold."

"Well if she knew, why didn’t she tell us, then?!" scowled a man named Koehler.

"Oh, that she did," Barbossa continued, turning back towards Geneva. "Just now."

Geneva stared at Barbossa. He was leaving her to her own explanation. He wasn’t going to defend her. Now she had to figure out how to get out of this. She could only glare, but she knew what she was doing, and she knew where her next move would get her. After all, the only reason she was here was to aim higher than Barbossa, and that position had just opened up. The only thing she’d have to overcome with these men was their evident gender premonitions.

So, Geneva smiled with her eyes.

"I told you of the curse at Isla de Muerta," she recounted, staring right into Barbossa. "It was quite evident that there was a curse. But knowing this, you still ordered them to take the gold. Well, let me tell you something about gods and their curses. Heathen gods love to test the desires of men. And this is their reward: witnessing their curse in its full capacity."

She could feel her connection with Hector was dwindling. It was very weak, and it was because of the curse. He was practically dead, only a walking corpse that couldn’t taste death’s relief. He was thinking almost entirely for himself now.

"I bet she’s a bloomin’ goddess herself," muttered a crew member, and murmurs circulated. Angered eyes beat on her, but she held herself firmly. Barbossa stared back at her intently.

"Well then, lass," he remarked, undoubtedly speaking for the crew. "How does one _lift_ the curse?"

She was cornered on a very narrow ledge now. She had to be careful with what she said next. She really didn’t know, but if she came out and said she didn’t know, they’d maroon her. She had to find a way past this, and fast.

"If I knew, I’d tell you," she said, carefully calculating her words. "But I know how to find out if there is a way: return to Isla de Muerta."

Barbossa didn’t say anything for a moment, clearly weighing his options. Everyone waited for his response. Geneva knew he couldn’t afford to get rid of her. She was the only chance they had in breaking the curse.

Barbossa finally turned to his navigator and told him to set the charts for the island once again. He turned to Geneva and gestured toward his cabin. She went back first, and he followed, leaving the crew to ready the ship.

He closed the cabin doors behind them. Barbossa’s cabin was incredibly extravagant. He had a large table, covered with all kinds of foods, including an entire platter of apples.

"You understand why you’re still here, lass," Barbossa said lowly, grabbing an apple and studying it. He didn’t bite it.

"I’m the only one who can read the chest," she replied. She knew that much. She could barely read him anymore, but she knew that much out of logic. She’d seen too many men to miss that kind of thought.

"You’ve got more power than just reading old dialects," Barbossa said, turning toward her, the apple still in his hand. "I may be a mortal, but I’m not a fool."

He held up the apple and bit out of it, the juice running down his face. Then, without warning, he spat it out and threw the apple across the room.

"I can’t taste that," he said, his tone of voice changing, eyes locked on her. "I’ve noticed it from the moment we took that gold."

He moved toward her, and she didn’t cower. She was waiting to see what he would say.

"I can’t feel," he went on, brushing her face, and she didn’t move. She couldn’t control him, but her eyes still saw everything.

"I’ve a hunger," he continued. "But no matter how much I eat, I feel like I’m dying. The wine does not quench my thirst, and the bread does not satisfy my hunger."

Geneva said nothing, and he continued.

"I wouldn’t feel your kisses if you had any to give," he said, brushing her lips with his blackened thumb.

"If you can break the curse, I’ll let you live until we’re relieved," he said. "And then, you’ll satisfy my hunger. You’ll stay on the _Pearl_ until the curse is broken; I won’t let you be thrown off. But if you’re wrong, I’ll see to it that you’re killed."

There was no way to back out of his deal. Barbossa was desperate, but not stupid. He knew she was a higher being, and that was enough temptation in itself. But she couldn’t say no to him, for he’d find a way to make her suffer. She was trapped either way she chose. But if she wanted to live to one day surpass him, she had to choose the option that would buy her time, even if it might make her his slave. She had no choice but to oblige. But she knew what she was doing. She was always prepared to lose some in order to gain more, for it always came full circle for her.


	14. Chapter 14

The return to Isla de Muerta was fruitful. As Geneva would have guessed, the only way to break the curse would be to return the gold pieces to the chest. The engraving on the side of the chest explained the conditions: "Return the Sun and Bless the Damned." These instructions were much easier to understand, and the crew was quick to head off in search of all the gold they had traded off.

Certainly, they wouldn’t be returning what they had bought either, so the crew made themselves known quickly in the Atlantic, and mainly in the Caribbean. They did everything it took to get the coins back, attacking ships, raiding villages, and murdering anyone who put up a struggle. Of course, though, Geneva didn’t participate. She didn’t have to, for Barbossa kept her near him at all times.

As terrible a name they made for the _Black Pearl_ , they were also practically unstoppable. It took less than a year for the name to begin circulating, and after about three, they were feared immensely, which wasn’t a problem for them. It just meant there were fewer people standing in their way.

They did run into a rather unexpected problem, though. William Turner, a middle-aged crew member aboard the ship, showed his discontentment with the crew. It took some time, but eventually, he revealed that he had no intention of letting the crew break the curse. Jack’s mutiny never sat well with him, and to punish the crew for their greed, he had sent his medallion off to somewhere he believed they’d never find it, intending that the crew be damned forever.

Naturally, this didn’t bother Barbossa in the slightest, for he had confidence that Geneva could easily outsmart Turner and read him in order to find out where he sent it. Seeing that there was no use for the man after Geneva had set her sights on the medallion’s location, Barbossa had the crew strap cannons to Turner’s bootstraps and throw him overboard, earning him the deriding nickname of Bootstrap Bill.

Geneva hadn’t been overly pleased with Barbossa’s rash move though. She hadn’t known that they were going to throw Turner overboard. She had figured they’d keep him in the brig, but it turned out that Barbossa was more venomous than he used to be. Nothing would stand the way of his success: not even the measly passive aggressive vengeance of a crew member. Even so, she didn’t like how Turner had been thrown aside. It seemed too hasty to her, and extremely unwise, but Barbossa wouldn’t hear it, and she wasn’t about to object.

The crew continued their search for every piece of gold, and once they had found almost one hundred of them, they decided it was a good time to return them to the island. They were quick to head into the cave and return the coins to their rightful place, but they were startled to find that nothing happened. Sure enough, they turned to Geneva.

Annoyed that the crew kept putting the blame on her, she reread the engraving.

"Return the Sun and Bless the Damned," she repeated, turning back to Barbossa. "I can only assume you have to return all of it." The crew grumbled at this news, and Barbossa held up his hands to silence them.

"It makes sense," he replied, taking her side.

"Naturally you can’t have just part of the sun either," Geneva continued, gesturing towards the chest. "It all has to be there." As she was speaking, something caught her eye. She knelt back down to read the chest.

"What now?" yelled a crew member in disgust. Geneva did her best to ignore him and turned carefully to Barbossa.

"Do you know anything about Aztec gods?" she asked slowly, and Barbossa thought for a moment.

"Bloodthirsty, war-loving," he said finally. Geneva turned back to the gold.

"I was looking for the word ‘sacrificial,’" she said, now aware of the painful truth. "This curse requires a blood sacrifice. In order to be blessed, there has to be blood."

Barbossa stared at her. He couldn’t argue though. It was what the chest said. So, much to the crew’s dismay, they gave their blood to the gold and then headed back to the _Pearl_ to continue their search for the rest of the medallions.

When the _Pearl_ had finally set sail back north, Geneva thought of something. She turned from her post on the starboard side of the main deck and headed for the quarterdeck, where Barbossa was. When he saw her approaching, he stepped aside and bent an ear to her.

"Bootstrap should never have been thrown overboard," she whispered to him anxiously. "We needed his blood to satisfy the curse too!"

"That damned sneak," Hector spat, growling at himself. "How in the hell are we going to do this now?" Geneva shook her head.

"I don’t know," she said, sitting down on a crate to think.

"Well you’d better think of something!" he growled at her, an uncomfortable reminder of her side of the deal. "What did you figure out about where he sent his medallion?"

"He sent it to his child," Geneva responded quickly, trying to keep Barbossa at least somewhat satisfied with her. If she became useless, there was no reason to protect her any longer.

"His child!" Barbossa repeated thoughtfully, his face lighting up. "His child’s blood will satisfy the curse, won’t it?"

Geneva needed a straight answer. She couldn’t afford to say she didn’t know.

"It should," she said, but she wasn’t sure at all. She didn’t know about this kind of thing.

"Where is his child now?" Barbossa demanded, turning towards her from the wheel. He really had changed a lot because of this curse. Desperate men would do anything to help themselves. It made her cringe on the inside.

"I’m not sure," she replied softly. She couldn’t lie.

Barbossa rolled his eyes and strode over to her, leaning down towards her so he could look her right in the eye. "What do you mean, you’re not sure?" he asked, and Geneva weighed her answers carefully.

"I know the sea," she said with nervous precision. "I do not know the land. If his child comes into contact with the sea at all, I can find it that way."

Hector didn’t seem too thrilled by her answer. He was undoubtedly aware that the likelihood of Turner’s child coming into contact with the sea was slim. Geneva didn’t know how else to help herself. She needed to do something, and fast. Barbossa had to be convinced.

Before he could pull back, she reached out and caressed his cheek. He stopped, looking back at her.

"I will find it," she whispered to him gently, looking deep into his eyes. She hoped this would convince him. She couldn’t think of anything else.

"I promise," she added, and the look in his eyes changed. Suddenly, she could feel their connection strengthen. He trusted her again. He continued to look down at her, his expression almost intrigued by her, and then he leaned in toward her and kissed her, just briefly. She hadn’t quite expected him to go that far, but she went along with it. Then, he had turned and was back to his work.

Although Hector seemed to get back to work quickly, Geneva was left a bit startled by his actions. She wasn’t sure what kind of response she expected out of him, but it certainly wasn’t that. She wasn’t looking to form any kind of relationship, and she could deal with the feeble friendship they had, but she hadn’t planned on entering deeper territory. She never wanted to. It wasn’t what she was out to accomplish.

But there wasn’t a whole lot she could do except go along with it. She just didn’t want to go any further. She didn’t want to kiss him again. She could tolerate the pet names, the measly friendship, the flirtation, and the flattery, but nothing further. She hadn’t bargained for that. But now, she had gotten herself into it by acting, and she had to play along to a certain degree. She had his trust, and that was what she was looking for.


	15. Chapter 15

Finding more than eight hundred pieces of gold proved to be a difficult task. At first, the crew had seemed up to it, but the more they went along, the more hasty they got. No longer did they have mercy with the towns they raided. Wherever they went, it was easier to just get in and get out without dilly-dallying around with negotiations. They burned and raped every town they encountered, all with absolutely no remorse. And yet, it took years to retrieve every last piece.

The years certainly didn’t go by quickly. The time took a toll on all of the crew, except for Geneva, who never appeared to age because of her immortality. In reality, she was older than most of the crew, and closer to Barbossa’s age if anything. But internally, the years wore her down too.

Although he couldn’t feel, Barbossa still drowned himself in an extravagant lifestyle. He always kept his cabin looking nice, and he always had a platter of fresh apples. Geneva knew why he did it. If there was one thing Hector loved, it was his apples. He couldn’t bear to not have them around for when he won his life back. He always had to have them, no matter what, just in case. He had to be ready to taste them.

It didn’t seem to help him much though. All of the expensive things he surrounded himself with didn’t appear to make him feel any satisfaction. He was helplessly numb. He couldn’t taste the food he ate. He couldn’t feel Geneva’s lips when he kissed her. Everything was beyond his reach.

The only thing that he could find any remote delight in was conversation. He often spoke to Geneva, simply because she was always in his company aboard the ship. He kept her close for a different reason, and that was because he trusted her. He called her by her pet name, and she made sure that he was as comfortable as he could be. She only went so far though. She didn’t want anything to do with love. She wouldn’t have that. He understood that. He slowly began to caress her less and talk to her more. She could be agreeable company for him, and she didn’t have to feign enjoyment. She could talk to just about anyone that treated her well, and Barbossa did that much, so the smallest of things began to lighten up again.

In the midst of all this, though, Geneva was still obligated to find the medallion that Bootstrap Bill had sent away. She wasn’t sure how she was ever going to find it. She didn’t have an imprint on Turner’s child, so there was no way she could know where to look. She didn’t know who exactly she was looking for either. _A child_ was a rather ambiguous term. A child could be anyone.

But then, something peculiar happened. There came a time after only about two years of searching that the crew suddenly _felt_ something. They all had the same feeling about where a piece of the gold was, and without hesitation, they immediately set sail in that direction. Then, they proceeded to fire upon a merchant ship and raid it, only to find nothing. Frustrated at this apparent wild goose chase, Barbossa ordered the ship to be destroyed.

The odd thing to Geneva, though, was that the crew seemed to have a connection with the coins. Although they couldn’t always count on this connection, it was a much easier way to find the medallions, which took a large weight off her shoulders. No longer was she entirely responsible for finding Bootstrap’s medallion. If the crew had the ability to sense their locations, that was better than Geneva could hope to accomplish. With this in mind, she could afford to worry less about her fate.

After about eight years, the crew had found every piece of gold except for Bootstrap’s. Soon, the weight was back on her shoulders to find the gold again. All she could do was stall. She had no way of knowing where the medallion was, and she had no way to find out. The crew began to get irritable. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She went through all the places that she had gotten out of Turner before they threw him overboard.

She hadn’t imprinted on him, simply because she didn’t want to imprint on just anybody. Imprinting too much could really cause problems for her, and it wasn’t a connection that was easily thrown away. Besides, she was glad that she hadn’t imprinted on Turner, simply because of what the crew had done to him. The man was undoubtedly suffering horribly, unable to die.

So, the _Pearl_ sailed to wherever she pointed toward. These missions not fruitful, and the more failure they came upon, the less the crew trusted Geneva. She was running out of ideas quickly. She couldn’t just make up places to go to anymore. But she wasn’t sure what she could do.

Then, almost as if right on queue, the crew sensed Bootstrap’s medallion. The winds changed direction immediately, catching the _Pearl’_ s sails. Without hesitation, they set sail off in the direction they felt called to, and Geneva was relieved. By nightfall the same day, they had arrived just outside of a small English port in the Caribbean. Then, in the dark cloak of the night, without any warning, they fired upon the town. That was the first part of the plan: put the local militia in absolute shock. It always worked. Then, when the militia was sufficiently occupied and waning, Barbossa sent the half of the crew to retrieve the final coin, while the rest stayed behind and continued the ocean siege.

Geneva stayed aboard the ship, watching from the quarterdeck as the port went up in smoke. The local militia stood no chance against the _Black Pearl_. Within the hour, the port’s defenses had been utterly defeated. The rest of the crew came back quickly, but they brought someone back with them.

As Geneva walked closer to the rail of the quarterdeck, she could hear Bo’sun, Barbossa’s first mate, immediately object to taking a prisoner. They never had before, so why would they now?

"But she invoked the right of parlay with Cap’n Barbossa!" claimed Pintel, who was holding the prisoner in place. It was very young-looking woman, no older than her early twenties, wearing a dainty, upper-class nightgown. Geneva stood at the top of the stairs as Barbossa went down before her to see what the ruckus was about.

Just as soon as Pintel had defended himself, the young woman stepped forward in order to explain herself, but before she even had a chance, Bo’sun slapped her across the face.

"You will speak when spoken to," he said, looking straight down at the girl. Geneva squinted and began to make her way down to the main deck, but Barbossa had already grabbed Bo’sun’s arm.

"And ye’ll not lay a hand on those under the protection of parlay," the captain corrected, and Bo’sun responded with a gruff "aye, sir" before yanking his arm away in disgust. Geneva came up to Barbossa’s side, watching everything from under the veil of the brim of her hat, and Barbossa turned to the young lady in her nightgown, smiling coyly.

"My apologies, miss," he said smoothly, but the girl’s face was hard and determined. She wanted to negotiate for herself, but in a man’s world, it would not be as easy as she thought.

"Captain Barbossa," she said, and her accent was precise and clear, definitely high-class. "I am here to negotiate a succession of hostilities against Port Royal."

Barbossa smiled and chuckled. "There were a lot of long words there, miss; we’re not but humble pirates."—then, with mild amusement, he added—"What is it that you want?"

"I want you to leave and never come back," she snarled forcefully, but her seriousness was but a joke to the crew, and they sniggered at her.

"I’m disinclined to acquiesce your request," replied Barbossa, and when she gave him a confused look, he added, mockingly, "Means no."

Amidst the chuckles of the crew behind her, the girl held up well, and pushed forward. "Very well," she said, pulling at a necklace chain around her neck and walking over to the railing, the crew yelping in protest of what she was about to do. She held the chain over the edge, the last medallion hanging on the end.

"I’ll drop it," she threatened, and the crew stared at her. Barbossa looked at the girl, and then about at his crew.

"Me holds are burstin’ with swag!" he said with mock surprise. "That bit of shine matters to us? Why?"

The girl was visibly shocked. "That’s what you’ve been searching for," she exclaimed softly, confused. "I recognize the ship! I saw it eight years ago on the crossing from England!"

"Did ya’ now?" Barbossa asked her, and the girl took a breath to compose herself. Geneva smiled under her hat.

"Fine," the girl went on. "Well, I suppose if it _is_ worthless, then there’s no point in me keeping it." Cleverly, she released part of the chain so that the medallion fell a few inches, and the crew jumped in protest, including the captain.

The girl’s face lit up with a smile of triumph, for she was finally in the catbird seat. Geneva let out a small chuckle. This girl was smart.

Barbossa let out a similar amused chuckle to regain his status, and sauntered leisurely over to the girl. "You have a name, missy?" he asked, and Geneva’s smile disappeared.

The girl hesitated nervously. "Elizabeth... Turner," she finally said, and the air changed, although she had no idea what she had just sentenced herself to. "I’m a maid in the governor’s household." By that time, nobody was listening anymore. Barbossa turned from her and faced Geneva and Bo’sun, addressing the crew, a large, knowing smile on his face.

"Miss Turner," he repeated, and the surname circulated throughout the whole crew, devilish smiles appearing on their faces.

"And how does a maid come to own a trinket such as that?" Barbossa pried, turning around to address Elizabeth again. "Family heirloom, perhaps?"

"I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean," Elizabeth replied cautiously. Barbossa nodded.

"Very well," he said, putting his hand out towards her. "You hand it over, we’ll put your town to our rudder, and ne’er return." Slowly, Elizabeth brought her own pampered hand up and dropped the medallion into Barbossa’s. Then, he handed Jack the necklace for safekeeping, not uttering another word. Then, he turned from her, and Elizabeth’s face lit up expectantly.

"Our bargain?" she inquired after him, and Barbossa only nodded to Bo’sun, not looking back at her. Bo’sun turned to the crew.

"Still the guns and stow ‘em," he ordered, and the crew went about their business, leaving Elizabeth standing there. "Signal the men, set the flags, and make good to clear port." Elizabeth looked around wildly. Geneva only watched her, a smile in her eyes. She had no clue who she had made a deal with.

"Wait!" called Elizabeth, rushing after Barbossa, and Geneva only smirked, slowly following to catch up to Barbossa. "You have to take me ashore!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "According to the code of the Order of the Brethren—!"

"First!" Barbossa snapped, turning sharply to face her. "Your return to shore was not part of our negotiation nor our agreements, so I must do nothin’. Secondly, you must be a pirate for the pirate’s code to apply, and you’re not, and thirdly,"—he paused to offer a sly, triumphant smile to her shocked expression—"the code is more of what you’d call a guideline, instead of actual rules. Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_ , Miss Turner."

Before she could protest, Pintel and Ragetti had grabbed her by the arms and were leading her off for safekeeping, and Barbossa continued up the stairs to the quarterdeck. Geneva shook her head and grinned, and then made her way for the quarterdeck stairs herself. Once she’d reached the top, she eyed Barbossa and leisurely made her way over to his side, looking out over the ship.

"I certainly hope you were more honest in your dealings with me," she said, her voice flowing like honey. Barbossa looked at her and chuckled.

"You’ve got eyes that can see right through my tricks," he said, and Geneva smiled, the wind catching her hair.

A few minutes later, Barbossa called for Pintel and Ragetti, and they came up to the quarterdeck. Barbossa walked over to meet them, leaving Geneva by the wheel.

"I’ll be dining with Miss Turner tonight," he said to them with a voice tickled in amusement. "So, make ready the food and go find that red Spanish dress. Tell her that I request that she wears it, and, if she’s so disinclined to acquiesce to my request, tell her she’ll dine with the crew, wearing nothing at all." The men laughed amongst themselves, but there was no smile on Geneva’s face. She turned from them and went down the steps to the main deck to lean against the railing and watch the waves.

The crew went about their business, and then, Barbossa came down the quarterdeck stairs to go have his dinner. Geneva paid him no attention, and neither did he to her. After all, he had a fancy dinner to go to.

* * *

 

The night was beginning to clear. The crew was going in and out of their skeletal forms as they worked. Geneva only looked out at the waves, thinking of nothing in particular.

Suddenly, the cabin doors burst open, and Geneva whirled around to see a very terrified Elizabeth. She took one look at the crew of bones before her and let out a bloodcurdling scream, but she was swept along into the mass of them against her will. Some of the crew chased her about the deck, trying to terrorize her, and Geneva narrowed her eyes, unamused. Elizabeth fled up and down the ship, running into Geneva along the way and briefly making eye contact with seemingly the only normal human being aboard the ship, before continuing to flee from her pursuers. Finally, she tried to run back into the cabin, but Barbossa caught her and forced her back out to the deck.

"Look!" he ordered her, and she did, shaking. "The moonlight shows us for what we really are! We are not among the living, and so, we cannot die. But neither are we dead!" Elizabeth couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even scream.

"For too long I’ve been parched of thirst and unable to quench it!" Barbossa said, whipping her around to face him, and she tried to back away. "Too long I’ve been starvin’ to death and haven’t died. I feel nothin’. Not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman’s flesh." He reached out towards her, and the skin on his hand and arm corroded away to nothing but bones and rags, and she recoiled. Barbossa continued to walk towards her and into the moonlight, transforming right before her eyes.

"You’d best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner," he said, a wicked look in his unblinking eyes. "You’re in one." Elizabeth’s face was filled with terror and disbelief up to the brim. Barbossa pulled out a bottle of wine, pulled the cork off with his teeth, and proceeded to down it, but it splashed down through his ribs and stained his ragged clothing, falling to the floor. Unable to withstand the horror before her, Elizabeth let out a startled gasp and dashed back into the cabin, and Barbossa turned and smashed the wine bottle against the door in a frustrated rage, slamming the doors behind her. Then, he turned around and let out a hearty laugh, which the crew echoed, all except for Geneva, whose eyes were narrowed unpleasantly.

Then, suddenly, the captain snapped at them. "What are you lookin’ at? Get back to work!" Like cockroaches, the crew scattered, Geneva along with them. She pushed past Barbossa and opened the doors behind him, following where Elizabeth went.

The cabin was dark and quiet, and Geneva entered noiselessly. In the very back of the room by the windows, she could see Elizabeth cowering in the corner. Undoubtedly, Barbossa had already told her of her role in breaking the curse. Not only was she terrified of that, but she was terrified of the entire crew even more so than she had started out.

Geneva walked around the large dining table, still covered with uneaten food, prepared nicely. Almost all the candles had gone out, except for a sparse few.  
  
By the time Elizabeth finally heard Geneva approaching, she was only a couple yards away.

"Stay back!" Elizabeth exclaimed softly, severely scant of bravery, but still quite determined. Geneva stopped about five feet from her and shook her head, taking off her hat so that she was more recognizable. When Elizabeth laid eyes on her face, her eyes widened in shock.

"You’re the boy who wasn’t a skeleton!" she said, a bit louder. Geneva nodded slowly.

"Partially correct, but close enough," Geneva replied, not bothering to make her voice sound male. Elizabeth cocked her head as she processed what she had just heard.

"You’re a... woman?" Elizabeth asked, studying Geneva’s face in the dim candlelight. Geneva’s lips curled into a small smile.

"That would be true," the sea lioness responded, and Elizabeth sat there dumbfounded for a moment.

"Do _they_ know that?" she asked, and Geneva let out a huff of amusement.

"Oh, yes," she replied. She was starting to get a bit bored.

"But you’re not cursed?" Elizabeth asked. Geneva shook her head and sighed.

"Look, I’m not up for too many questions right now," she said, ignoring Elizabeth’s curiosity. "I came in here to tell you that they only need a little bit of your blood. Whether they decide to kill you or not all depends on your actions. If you try something funny, I’ll be the one dealing with you, and that’s not a very promising fate for you."

Elizabeth didn’t say anything, partially because she didn’t know how to react. But Geneva wasn’t done speaking her mind.

"By the way, you look nothing like your father," Geneva said, studying Elizabeth’s face with smiling eyes.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

"And you’re much too pampered to be a simple maid," Geneva went on, ignoring Elizabeth’s confusion. "Did your mother remarry when your father became a pirate?"

When Elizabeth said nothing, Geneva narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it just yet.

"Well," Geneva said, slipping a smile back on her face. "Don’t make things difficult, or I’ll have to take care of you, and it won’t be particularly nice." She was about to turn and leave, but Elizabeth spoke.

"Why are _you_ here?" she asked suddenly, and with an invasive tone.

"What does it matter to you, Miss Turner?" Geneva replied. "When they’re done with you, you’ll be on own, wherever we choose to drop you off, and then it won’t make any difference who I am or why I'm here."

"You’ll take me back to Port Royal!" Elizabeth protested, and Geneva put on a thoughtful look.

"If I remember correctly, the captain promised to never return to Port Royal, didn’t he?" she said, and Elizabeth stood up in protest.

"Your captain tricked me!" Elizabeth stammered angrily, and Geneva looked at her with no pity.

"No," Geneva said calmly, her voice fluid as a running river. " _You_ weren’t specific. _You_ weren’t thinking. I can predict with utter certainty that you've never made real negotiations before. Your vocabulary is astounding, but your understanding of this world is limited."

" _Your_ understanding is limited," Elizabeth countered firmly, glaring. "The entire Royal Navy is bound to be looking for me now. And when they find me, you’ll be sorry you ever kidnapped me!"

"The entire Royal Navy?" Geneva laughed, narrowing her eyes. "Well, that certainly bears the potential of being interesting. Tell me; are they at least halfway decent at swordplay? It would be quite unfortunate if they weren’t."

"Of course they are!" Elizabeth retorted, as if that question was a given. "They’re the most highly trained in the Caribbean!"

"Good," Geneva chuckled, a real smile on her face. "At least they won’t bore me to death. I’ll hold you to that, you know."

"You?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief. "They’ll tear you apart easily. They’ll tear all of you apart!"

Geneva shook her head, smiling rather blackly, impatience rising in her throat. She wouldn’t let it come out though, and she kept her mask of decency on.

"Let me tell you something before you drown in your own ignorance," Geneva said, her voice soft and powerful. "Your Royal Navy had better start praying if they hope to stand a chance against this crew.  
  
"As for me, if any of them had a head on their shoulders, they wouldn’t dare to challenge me in the first place. Smart men don’t stand in my presence; they kneel. Powerful men entertain me. All others, I cut down. And if _you_ get in my way, I won’t hesitate with you either. I’m a sea lioness. I don’t have an interest in you, so you'd do well for yourself to make sure that I never do."

Elizabeth was reduced to a stunned silence. Geneva put her hat back on, and looked Elizabeth up and down as she turned to leave.

"And by the way," she added. "That dress you’re wearing—that’s mine. But don’t worry; I always hated it. So you can wear it. In fact, you can keep it if you’d like."

And with that, Geneva turned and left, leaving Elizabeth in the silent darkness of the cabin.


	16. Chapter 16

Geneva was never one to administer empty threats. She was not above being cruel to keep herself on course, and Elizabeth was no exception. From the moment the girl entered the playing field, she’d posed a bit of a threat.

It was quite obvious that Elizabeth was an attractive young lady. Of course Hector and the entire lot of the crew would regard her at face value. Geneva was not jealous of Elizabeth for this reason—and Geneva would even go so far as to say that she wasn’t jealous at all, but rather that she was afraid that if she lost Barbossa’s affection, he wouldn’t have a reason to keep her anymore.

Elizabeth was a problem that would be easily taken care of, though. As long as she knew her place in the hierarchy, that was enough, and Geneva made sure that she understood that she wasn’t a prim and proper guest under the perfect protection of parlay: she was a prisoner with whom, at any moment, the crew could do whatever they wished.  
  
But Geneva couldn’t quite side with Barbossa either. She was a bit opposed to the way the crew had treated Elizabeth. She saw no reason to scare the daylights out of the poor girl, who clearly had no intention of creating any trouble for herself or anyone else. Geneva didn’t find it at all humorous either when Elizabeth had finally witnessed the true extent of the curse. As amusing as her fear might have seemed to the crew, it wasn’t at all funny to them when they first discovered the curse either.  In fact, Geneva could recall even more magnitude in their screams of terror, and so, in comparison, Elizabeth had held up remarkably well.

When the _Black Pearl_ arrived at Isla de Muerta once again, almost the entire crew came into the cave to witness the breaking of the curse. They lugged in the last few chests full of gold, trinkets, and other valuables, dumping them haphazardly all over the floor of the cave. Elizabeth was brought up to the chest where Barbossa stood, and Geneva sat off to the side, watching.

"Gentlemen!" Barbossa began, looking down upon his eager audience. "The time has come!" The crew echoed his words with a great cheer.

"Salvation is nigh!" he went on. "Our torment is nearing an end!"

"Yeah!" the crew cried out in unison.

"For ten years, we’ve been tested and tried, and each man-jack of you here has proved his mettle a hundred times over! And a hundred times again!"

"Yeah!" the crew cried out, even louder this time. Barbossa was a master at rallying the crew. He knew how to use words in his favor perfectly.

"Suffered, I have!" cried out Ragetti, and Barbossa turned to him.

"Punished, we were," shouted Barbossa. "The lot of us, disproportionate to our crime!"

"Aye!" they growled in response.

"Here it is!" Barbossa announced, shoving the lid of the chest away with the sole of his boot. "The cursed treasure of Cortes himself. And every last piece that went astray, we have returned. Save for this!" He pointed at the medallion hanging around Elizabeth’s neck, and the crew let out a roar.

"No more of our misery!" Barbossa continued. "No more shall we be despairing of ever finding the lass! We have found her!" The crew roared in approval, and Geneva’s eyes narrowed at the sound of Elizabeth being adorned with _her_ pet name. She said nothing though, and remained still and attentive.

"And who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?" Barbossa asked the congregation, and they collectively erupted in unison, "Aye!"

"And whose blood must yet be paid?" he shouted, riling the crew even more.

"Hers!" they shouted back, pointing their swords and guns viciously at Elizabeth, who became startled.

"You know the first thing I’m going to do after the curse is lifted?" Barbossa mused thoughtfully, chuckling deeply, and the crew laughed along with him. The captain turned to Elizabeth, simply to scare her.

"Eat a whole bushel of apples!" he snarled, and then he forced her down close to the chest. The crew began to chant, over and over again, louder and louder.

"Begun by blood," Barbossa said, brandishing a dagger. "By blood undone." He yanked the medallion from Elizabeth’s neck and placed it in her hand, and then he took the dagger and sliced her palm, drawing blood. She yelped, but he wasn’t deterred, and he squeezed her hand shut, allowing the blood to touch the gold.

"That’s it?" Elizabeth asked in shock, looking to Barbossa, and he smiled.

"Waste not," he replied, and Elizabeth looked over at Geneva, the look in the sea lioness' eyes only a confirmation. They really only needed a little bit of blood. But Geneva’s eyes were also narrowed in discontent, and Elizabeth was made uncomfortable, and she looked away.

The crew was howling now. Barbossa let her blood sufficiently cover the medallion, just to make extra sure there was no fluke in the process. Then, the suspense came to a peak as he began to release the medallion from Elizabeth’s hand, and it fell silent in the cave, the entire crew waiting to hear the clink of the coin hitting the chest.

Then, the coin dropped, and it hit the others, accounting for all eight hundred and eighty-two of them. Elizabeth tore her hand away the moment Barbossa loosened his grip, and he stepped away and closed his eyes, waiting to feel the curse lift. The entire cave waited.

They sat there and waited for a few moments, and then, the crew began looking about at each other curiously, to see if anything had changed.

"Did it work?" asked Koehler, and the crew exchanged unsure expressions.

"I don’t feel no different," Ragetti said, shrugging.

"How do we tell?" asked Pintel rather loudly, looking about for an answer from anybody.

Barbossa rolled his eyes, pulled his pistol out of his belt, and shot Pintel in the breast. The whole crew jumped, shocked. Pintel looked down at the hole in his chest. Nothing happened.

"You’re not dead!" Koehler said.

"No," Pintel said, so relieved at the idea that he giggled before catching himself and looking up at the captain and pointing an accusing finger at him. "He shot me!"

"It didn’t work," Ragetti murmured nervously.

"The curse is still upon us!" shouted Twigg, a stinky man who always hung around Koehler. More accusations began to fly. Barbossa lifted the dagger to examine the blood on it. Geneva stood from her seat, looking first at the captain, and then, her eyes slowly traveled to where Elizabeth stood, and they narrowed suspiciously.

"Hector," Geneva murmured, indicating that she was on the same page of understanding that he was. He turned quickly toward Elizabeth.

"You! Maid!" he demanded. "Your father, what was his name?"

When she didn’t respond quickly enough, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.

"Was your father William Turner?!" he snarled at her, and Elizabeth firmly stared him down in response, unfazed.

"No," she replied defiantly. Barbossa was infuriated.

"Where’s his child?!" he shouted at her. "The child that sailed from England eight years ago?! The child in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner? _Where?!"_ Geneva remembered that merchant ship they destroyed for seemingly no reason so long ago. The crew could sense the gold there. She had sensed where it came from. They all knew it somehow.

Elizabeth did not back down. She was wading too far into dangerous waters. Barbossa was desperate and angry. She said nothing, and only stared at him, refusing to speak. Barbossa lost his patience and backhanded her across the face, knocking her down the pile of gold, tossing the medallion along with her. Geneva took a step toward her, but no further, a distempered remark catching in her throat. She didn't like what she saw at all, but if even if she said anything, it would do no good. All she could do was watch Elizabeth’s unconscious body.

"You two!" Bo’sun growled at Pintel and Ragetti, who had brought Elizabeth aboard the _Pearl_ in the first place. "You brought us the wrong person!" The rest of the crew growled angrily in agreement.

"No!" claimed Pintel, anxiously trying to ward off the accusations. "She had the medallion! She’s the proper age!"

"She said her name was Turner!" Ragetti added quickly, and Pintel nodded vigorously. "You heard her!" The crew responded in agreement. She had said that.

"I think she lied to us!" Ragetti went on, rallying the crew to their side even more.

"And I say that _witch_ lied to us, that’s what!" shouted Koehler, and Geneva glared as the crew jumped on the bandwagon.

"She was supposed to know who Bootstrap’s child was!"

"The witch tricked us!"

Geneva did her best to keep from saying anything that would devastate her agreement with Barbossa. "You’re the ones who insisted the medallion was at Port Royal!" she snarled back, her temper finally flaring. "I had nothing to do with that!" She became quite terrifying when her anger manifested.

The crew mulled over that point for a moment, grumbling amongst themselves, and then a new accusation was born.

"You brought us here for nothing!" Twigg shouted at Barbossa, and even more shouts of agreement came in.

"I won’t take questionin’ nor second-guessin’, not from the likes of you, Master Twigg!" Barbossa snapped back at the man.

"Who’s to blame him?" Koehler snarled. "Every decision you’ve made has led us from bad to worse!"

"It was you who sent Bootstrap to the depths!" called out another man, and more of the crew rallied behind this new notion. Bo’sun drew his sword angrily, the chaos heightening.

"And it’s you who brought us here in the first place!" the barbarous first mate roared. The crew was thundering now with anger. Jack the monkey was screeching hysterically. Barbossa drew his sword in response, ready to fight. Geneva’s hand was at the ready on her cutlass.

"If any coward here dare challenge me, let him speak!" Barbossa demanded, and Bo’sun hesitated. Barbossa brandished his sword formidably, and Bo’sun thought better of it.

"I say we cut her throat!" Koehler growled. "And spill all her blood! Just in case!" The crew roared in agreement. Jack the monkey squealed again, and Barbossa looked at him. Geneva glanced at the monkey, and then she and the captain both turned to look back at Elizabeth, but she had vanished.

"The medallion!" Barbossa cried out. "She’s taken it! Get after her, you feckless pack of ingrates!" The crew roared in response and charged out into the tunnels, yelling and howling, their murderous voices echoing loudly all throughout the cave.

"Did you see where she went?" Barbossa demanded gruffly, turning to Geneva and sheathing his sword as soon as they'd left. She shook her head.

"There’s no way she could have made it far," Geneva assured him, a troubled look on her face. She was getting visions though. Her mind was somewhere else. She was getting strange feelings of understanding, but she didn’t know what they meant. They felt important. She wouldn’t let herself discard them.

The shouts were getting softer. Barbossa was becoming impatient.

"What in the blazes are they doing?" he muttered. Geneva ignored him. She’d never gotten a vision like this before. She couldn’t see anything, but she felt as though she was being forcefully injected with knowledge. It was coming in so rapidly that she couldn’t keep up with it. The feeling was heightening and headed toward a peak. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to take everything in. This was all coming from one person she’d imprinted before. Their connection was strong, and their proximity was close.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes. She knew. And she let out the only utterance she could. She laughed, more heartily than she ever had in all her life. Oh, how she loved tricks.

Barbossa looked at her confusedly. "What’s come over you?" he demanded, but Geneva couldn’t contain herself enough to respond appropriately.

"Incredible!" she roared, laughing so hard that tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. "Unbelievable!"

Barbossa snarled. "What?!"

Geneva couldn’t respond. She didn’t care to respond to the captain anyway. She had been humored so much by this revelation, and she didn’t need to tell Barbossa. It wasn’t urgent. She hopped off the pile and made for the tunnels, Barbossa quickly following behind her. She knew.

The crew had congregated near the boats they had used to get into the cave, surrounding a familiar face. Geneva stepped around the corner, pointing a knowing finger at the face of the one and only Jack Sparrow, still unable to wipe the wide smile from her face.

"You, sir," she said in congratulations to the man, chuckling. "Have amused me." Sparrow smiled warmly at her.

"Have I?" he cooed back at her, and this only tickled her more. Barbossa shoved past her and confronted Jack himself, clearly frustrated that the sea lioness knew more of what was going on than he did at the moment.

"How the blazes did you get off that island?" Barbossa asked, and Jack smiled, leaning comfortably on the paddle of a wooden oar. Geneva snickered even more, and Barbossa seethed with discontentment. Everyone looked to Sparrow.

"When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land," Jack said. "You forgot one very important thing, mate." The crew looked at him expectantly. Geneva’s grin only intensified.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, as if that response adequately answered the question. Geneva sniggered again, and Barbossa turned to her.

"You knew this?" he snarled, and Geneva shook her head.

"Not until just now," she said, an amused grin still played across her face. "I can only receive understandable visions from clear-minded people, if I ever do at all. And Jack is anything but clear-minded! This is probably one of the very few moments when he _isn’t_ intoxicated!"

Jack chuckled. "So you did cast your eye spell on me," he said, and Geneva looked at him, only smiling. "Tell me; was it my devilish handsomeness that led you to make that decision?" Barbossa rolled his eyes at Jack’s flirtatious attempts at Geneva.

"Enough," he snapped, eyeing Jack. Geneva could sense a bit of territorial jealousy in their connection. Barbossa was not pleased with anything in this moment. But he had a right to be impatient. Geneva could agree that it was time to move on and quickly.

"Gents, you all remember Captain Jack Sparrow," Barbossa said pleasantly. "Kill him." The men raised their pistols and aimed them all at Jack’s head. Jack appeared absolutely unfazed by this, though.

"The girl’s blood didn’t work, did it?" he said, smiling knowingly. Barbossa snapped his head back towards Jack.

"Hold your fire!" he ordered, and then he stared at Jack. "You know whose blood we need."

"I know whose blood you need!" Jack confirmed eagerly. Geneva smiled with her eyes. She could use Jack. But there was no time for lollygagging. She could get to the point faster than anyone there.

"You," she said, suddenly. "You didn’t swim here, and to get this far this quickly, you would have needed a ship and a crew. Isn’t that right?"

Jack raised a finger in order to speak, but then paused.

"Actually, I used sea turtles," he replied. "Strapped ‘em to me legs. Quite efficient."

"Of course ya’ did," Geneva replied. "And the person whose blood we need. I know that person came with you. Did he not?" She knew this person was a he. She could see everything as plain as day now. She read Jack like a book.

Sparrow hesitated and made a face. That had happened a bit quickly for him, but he certainly didn’t expect to be read. Geneva huffed in amusement, paying no attention to Jack any longer. She turned to Barbossa and waited for him to give the order. The information had been presented clearly enough.

"To the _Pearl_ with the lot of you!" he ordered. "And take Jack along!" The crew scurried to ready the rowboats, and then they were off to the ship.

They finally made it aboard, and Barbossa had Jack thrown in the brig. He was still a bit frustrated. He liked to be on top, Geneva could tell. But the tides were turning. She could sense that, too.

Barbossa made it up to the quarterdeck and pulled out his telescope, eyeing a ship that was about a half a mile off. Geneva leaned against the railing next to him, peering out at the same ship.

"Don’t stress yourself so much, Hector," she cooed, stroking her amber locks. "They’ll be no trouble for us. It’s only fair that we give them a head start. After all, the _Black Pearl_ is the fastest ship in the ocean." Her words seemed relax Barbossa some, and he put away his telescope, a smile almost tugging at his lips as he gave the order to let out the sails and make chase.

They sailed away from the island and out into open sea quickly, and already, they were gaining on the measly little ship.

"Haul on the main brace! Make ready the guns!" Barbossa bellowed from the quarterdeck, turning to his first mate with a grin on his face. "And run out the sweeps." Geneva smiled. This was the very reason the name of the _Black Pearl_ had become so laden with fear.

The cannons were readied and the pirate flag was raised. Cargo from the ship ahead was floating past. They were trying to move faster by lightening the load, but it would do them no good. Their doom was immanent.

The _Pearl_ gained further on the little ship in no time. They were only one hundred meters away now. Geneva had been watching it intently, waiting to see what its crew would do. Suddenly, she saw the anchor on the starboard side drop, and the ship began to veer dangerously on its side, turning sharply against its own momentum.

"They're putting up a fight, then?" she commented to nobody in particular, her voice laced with amusement. The tactics of sea warfare always tickled her interests.

"They're clubhauling!" Barbossa called to the crew from behind her. "Hard to port! Rack the starboard oars!"

The _Pearl_ pulled up to broadside the little ship, the barbaric roars between opposing ships echoing back and forth. Geneva heard Barbossa draw his sword from its sheath in anticipation. Everyone was waiting for the command.

"Fire!" ordered both ships, almost at the same time, and the sound of cannon fire rung through the air. The smoke filled the air between the two ships, and gunshots rang out as bullets flew through the smog. The adrenalin coursed through Geneva’s veins. She always enjoyed these fights.

Men fell from both sides as they were shot, tumbling down into the water between the ships. Both sides were holding up viciously. But the battle would be over soon. The _Pearl_ had a valuable weapon.

"Strike your colors, you bloomin’ cockroaches!" Barbossa called out amidst the chaos, heading down to the main deck. "Hands grapples at the ready! Prepare to board!" The crew roared and grabbed for their grappling hooks. Barbossa strolled leisurely onto the center of the main deck in front of Geneva, who was now leaning calmly against the main mast of the _Pearl_. Cannon fire rung out from the _Pearl_ , and her prized weapon of destruction, the chain shot cannonball, flew through the air, striking and shattering the main mast of the other ship. The fight was as good as over.

The mast groaned and lost its balance, and it came crashing down gloriously onto the main deck of the _Pearl_ , crewmen running out of its wake so as not to be crushed. The mast missed Barbossa by only a few feet.

There was a moment of stunned silence aboard between the two ships, but it was short-lived.

"Pistols and cutlasses, men!" Barbossa ordered. "Koehler, Twigg, to the powder magazine. And the rest of you, _bring me that medallion!"_

The crew roared in response and threw grappling hooks at the rails across the water from them. Men swung on ropes to board the ship, and chaos ensued. Geneva pushed off her resting place on the main mast and made her way to Barbossa’s side to better watch the fight.

Soon enough, Jack the monkey came bounding across the mast with the medallion, being pursued by none other than Jack Sparrow. When he reached the rail of the _Pearl_ , he looked up and saw Barbossa, medallion in hand.

"Why, thank you, Jack," Barbossa said, and Sparrow smiled.

"You’re welcome," he responded, and Barbossa petted the monkey, which was now perched on his shoulder.

"Not you," Barbossa replied. "We named the monkey ‘Jack.’" Then, he turned to the rest of the crew, holding the medallion up for all to see. "Gents, our hope is restored!"

Jack flashed a hesitant smile, and as Barbossa stepped away, he could see Geneva standing in his place, smiling coyly. Jack really didn’t like that smile.

"‘Ello again, Jack," she said, almost as if she had been expecting him. Jack flashed a short, uncomfortable smile in response as he dismounted from the mast and onto the main deck of the _Pearl_.

"You’re quite clever," she said, looking him up and down, almost flirtatiously. Her grip on his arm as she pulled him off the mast did not feel nearly as pleasant, though, and he winced a bit. He cleared his throat, intending to return her flattery, but she cut him off.

"Put a sock in it," she said, walking off and leaving him in the hands of her crew-mates.

Barbossa’s crew made quick work of the opposing crew, tying them all against the main mast of the _Pearl_. The crew had shoved the remainder of the main mast of the other ship into the water and was sailing to a safe distance from the wreckage. Elizabeth’s eyes were wild. Geneva could see them, absolutely filled with fear. Just when nobody was looking, she slipped under the rope holding her to the mast and made a break for the rails where Barbossa stood, but Geneva caught her arm. Just as she did, the little ship in the distance exploded and burst into flames. Elizabeth let out a shocked whimper, and Geneva handed her back to a crew member to be tied up again.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. "Let her go!" All turned toward the voice.

A young man with long black hair stood on the railing of the _Pearl_ , holding fast to the ratlines. He was sopping wet, but his face had a look of determination. He brandished a pistol, and he pointed it at Barbossa.

"What’s in your head, boy?" Barbossa asked him, looking at him as though he were a joke.

"She goes free!" the boy responded valiantly.

"You’ve only got one shot, and we can’t die," replied Barbossa, almost boredly.

"Don’t do anything stupid!" Jack whispered to the man, and Geneva eyed him, then the boy. This was him. This was _the_ boy they were looking for.

"You can’t," the boy went on, responding to Barbossa. "But I can." He turned the pistol on himself, finger resting on the trigger, hammer cocked.

"Like that," Jack muttered, rolling his eyes. Geneva smiled coyly.

"Who are you?" Barbossa asked the boy, curiosity in his voice now. Jack jumped from the grasp of some crew members and scurried between Barbossa and the boy.

"No one!" he said, smiling like he was hiding something, but Geneva already knew and shook her head. "He’s no one. A distant cousin of my aunt’s nephew twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though. Eunuch."

"My name is Will Turner," the boy said from behind Jack, ignoring Jack’s tries to conceal his identity. "My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins." Will was certainly making things easy. Geneva sighed at his ignorance. These people really knew nothing of the sea. But at least she wouldn’t have to do any explaining to Barbossa as to who this boy was.

"He’s the spitting image of ol’ Bootstrap Bill come back to haunt us!" exclaimed Ragetti, and murmurs circulated throughout the crew.

"On my word do as I say, or I'll pull this trigger and be lost to Davy Jones' Locker," threatened Will, and Barbossa made no attempt to hassle the boy.

"Name your terms, Mr. Turner," Barbossa said, quickening the pace of the conversation so as to hasten Will’s mind. It was always the tactic he used. Keep your negotiants feeling as though they’re in control, and they’ll give you all the loopholes you want.

"Elizabeth goes free," said Will, and Barbossa rolled his eyes.

"Yes, we know that one," he said, helping Will along. "Anything else?"

Jack motioned at himself, trying to get Will to let him make the bargain. Will misunderstood.

"And the crew," Will added. "The crew are not to be harmed."

Barbossa looked about at the crew behind him, smiled a devilish, black smile, and replied to Will without any fuss.

"Agreed."


	17. Chapter 17

Barbossa had everyone locked in the brig for safekeeping until he had decided on his next course of action. This was a task that Geneva could easily help with. It was like corralling sheep into a pen. If the shepherd had a sword, the sheep would do as they were told with no problem.

As Bo’sun locked the doors to the cells, Elizabeth jumped suddenly toward Geneva from behind the bars. The sea lioness only looked at her. There was a determined look in Elizabeth’s eyes. She was angry.

"You wanted a good fight, didn’t you?" Elizabeth asked her bitterly. "Well, you found a worthy opponent! Will won’t lend you any mercy. He’ll tear you apart in one stroke."

"Hm," Geneva said thoughtfully, squinting knowingly at Elizabeth. "So he’s a practiced swordsman then?"

"A _master_ swordsman," Elizabeth corrected her coldly. Geneva only smiled, looking off at Will, who was in the cell adjacent to Elizabeth’s.

"Then that should make things interesting for us, then, shouldn’t it?" Geneva murmured, completely unintimidated. She was tickled by this knowledge. Everything Elizabeth was saying was backfiring, completely unbeknownst to her. The more Elizabeth tried to scare her, the more excited Geneva became.  And that was why Geneva could only smile as she exited the brig, trying to imagine the exhilarating spar with such a master of the art. If he was every bit as good as Elizabeth chalked him up to be, Geneva would be sure to face him, no matter how or when. She couldn’t pass up that kind of opportunity.

Geneva returned to the main deck of the _Pearl_ and then made her way up to the quarterdeck, where Barbossa was busy planning. As soon as she had reached the top step, Barbossa turned to her thoughtfully.

"Lassie," he said, curling his beard between his fingers. "What say ye to dropping a bit of cargo off, just to lighten our load?" Geneva smiled flirtatiously at him.

"I always love your ideas," she cooed to him, her voice like silk. Barbossa smiled at her and chuckled, taking a step closer to her in order to seize the moment. He couldn’t feel, but he always tried to.

"Your victory is nigh," she purred softly to him, for he was close enough to hear. Hector brushed her lips with his thumb admiringly.

"Aye," he murmured in response, smiling. "That it is." He had flavorful thoughts on his mind as he fancied all the things he would do when the curse was broken—all the things that would become his for the taking. Little did he know how much Geneva’s thoughts differed from his. Their paths crossed, but they were never meant to intertwine.

* * *

 

"Barbossa, you lying bastard!" Will yelled, struggling against the crew members holding him back. The whole crew was assembled with the prisoners on the main deck. There, in the distance, was a little spit of land for the soon-to-be-marooned Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth.

"You swore she’d go free!" Will hollered at Barbossa angrily, and Barbossa, unaffected, turned to face him.

"Don't dare impugn me honor, boy!" the captain responded valiantly. "I agreed she'd go free, but it was you who failed to specify when or where." He chuckled to himself on the last bit of his sentence. He loved manipulation just about as much as Geneva did.

"Though it does seem a shame to lose somethin’ so fine, don't it, lads?" he added, looking in Elizabeth’s direction, who was standing at the side of the ship by the rail, the first one up to be thrown overboard.

"Aye," the crew responded ravenously, sniggers circulating. Geneva was unamused, but it would all be over soon anyway.

"So I'll be havin’ that dress back before ye go," Barbossa continued, looking at Elizabeth expectantly. She looked at him with disbelief for a moment, but when she realized that he was serious, she scowled in disgust and began to strip down to her undergarments. Geneva still didn’t approve. She narrowed her eyes at Barbossa, but he wasn’t looking, and Geneva looked off in another direction to occupy herself. She eyed Jack, who was hopelessly trying to appease the first mate, a man who Geneva was sure didn’t possess the ability to smile.

"I always liked you," Jack offered toward the monstrous man, but he only received a deep growl in response. Geneva shook her head and smiled. Jack really did try.

Finally, Elizabeth had gotten the dress off, and was now standing completely exposed before the whole crew in her undergarments. She scowled as she handed the dress off to Barbossa. "Goes with your black heart," she muttered bitterly.

"Ooh, it's still warm," Barbossa chuckled, caressing it for himself before throwing it to the crew behind him. They ate it up.

Then, they all began to jeer at Elizabeth as she turned to prepare herself for the jump off the side of the ship. "Off you go!" they shouted to her, taunting her. "Come on! Get on with it!" Geneva bit her tongue.

"Too long!" Bo’sun thundered, and he stomped on the board Elizabeth was standing on. The shock knocked her off balance and she yelped, plummeting down into the ocean below.

Then, the crew’s attention was turned to Jack, who was next in line. He stepped up to the side of the ship, looked down at the waves, and then turned to Barbossa, a pleading look in his eyes.

"I really rather hoped we were past all this," he said, offering a sad smile. Barbossa shook his head and put his arm around Jack’s shoulders, like a good friend would.

"Jack, Jack!" he said with mock pity. "Did you not notice? That be the same island we made you the governor of on our last little trip."

Jack looked out at the tiny spit of land. He turned back to Barbossa, not feeling any better. "I did notice," he confirmed, and Barbossa smiled at him.

"Perhaps you'll conjure up another miraculous escape," Barbossa ventured with feigned optimism. "But I doubt it."—Barbossa pulled out his sword and pointed it at Jack in persuasion—"Off you go."

Jack winced. "The last time you left me a pistol with one shot," he reminded the captain, trying to dally. Barbossa didn’t hesitate at all.

"By the powers, you're right," Barbossa said, and he turned around to address his crew. "Where be Jack’s pistol? Bring it forward." Jack’s pistol was brought. But Jack wasn’t finished stalling. He really was trying.

"Seeing as there’s two of us, a gentleman would give us a pair of pistols," he added, and Barbossa shook his head.

"It’ll be one pistol as before," Hector asserted. "And you can be the gentleman and shoot the lady; and starve to death yourself." Barbossa threw Jack’s bundle of effects into the ocean, and Jack’s eyes followed them quickly, and he swiftly dove into the water after them. The crew’s laughter chased him.

Then, the _Pearl_ was off for Isla de Muerta again. Morale was extremely high. Everyone’s confidence was at its peak. The curse was about to be broken; for real this time.

They arrived at the cursed island quickly, and all but two of the crew left the ship to attend the breaking of the curse, while those who remained on the ship were to watch the prisoners in the brig.

The crew made a real ruckus. They were too excited to keep quiet. After almost a decade, they were finally getting what they wanted. When they entered the treasure room, they all began to chant loudly in anticipation. Unlike last time, they would not take any chances; they were going to spill all of Will’s blood.

Geneva couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed at the outcome of it all. She had been so excited at the idea of getting to fight Will, but as it stood, she wasn’t going to be able to. She supposed there was nothing she could do about it, though. There were bound to be other great swordsmen out there somewhere. Besides, her victory was near. All she had to do was wait until the curse was broken. Then, she could use Barbossa to get where she pleased.

She sat herself comfortably on a rock near the largest pile of treasure, atop which rested the Chest of Cortes. Suddenly, as she sat, she got a vision. She could see now. The clearer the vision, the more lucid her victims were.

Jack was extremely lucid. And he was bringing the Royal Navy with him. He was coming into the cave alone, while the Navy remained parked outside the entrance to the cave, just as he instructed them to do.

This was a revelation. But, unlike before, Geneva contained herself. This information was far too valuable to let loose. She could really use this. And so, just like that, her plans began to change, entirely behind the calm and collected mask she always wore. Her loyalty had always been flamboyant by nature. But she was always loyal to herself above all, and right now, she had the wonderful privilege of choice.

Barbossa readied his dagger, and the crew chanted loudly. Then, just as Geneva expected, Jack Sparrow waltzed in from the back, pushing his way through the crowd toward the front. Geneva stood in acknowledgment of him, and just as soon as the crew had noticed his presence, they became awkwardly silent.

"Jack!" Will exclaimed. Everyone’s faces, including Barbossa’s, reflected similar shock, all except for Geneva, who had seen him coming.

"It’s not possible," Barbossa murmured in disbelief. Jack swatted that statement away like a fly.

"Not _probable_ ," Jack corrected, approaching the bottom of the mound of treasures.

"Where’s Elizabeth?" Will asked. Jack held up his hands.

"She’s safe, just like I promised," Jack replied assuredly. "She’s all set to marry Norrington just like she promised, and you get to die for her just like you promised. So we’re all men of our word, really. Except for Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman."

"Shut up," Barbossa snapped at Jack, pointing the dagger at him. "You’re next." He would not have any more interruptions. His freedom was at hand. He motioned for the men holding Will, and they shoved his neck towards the chest. Barbossa readied the blade at Will’s throat.

"You don’t want to be doing that, mate," Jack warned, and Barbossa looked over at Jack.

"No, I really think I do," he replied, and went back to readying the dagger.

"Your funeral," Jack muttered, shrugging, and Barbossa rolled his eyes, slowly removing the dagger from Will’s throat.

"And why don’t I want to be doing it?" Barbossa asked. Jack slapped Bo’sun’s gripping hand from his shoulder so he could continue up the mount of treasure to where Barbossa stood.

"Because the _HMS_ _Dauntless_ , pride of the Royal Navy, is floating just offshore waiting for you," Jack said, and Barbossa’s eyes widened. A murmur ran through the crew.

"Just hear me out, mate," Jack continued, now that he had the upperhand. "You order your men to row out to the _Dauntless_ , they do what they do best"—the crew chuckled in response—"Robert’s your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt. There you are with two ships. The makings of your own fleet." Barbossa only watched him, arms folded across his chest, as he decided whether or not to trust Sparrow.

"‘Course, you’ll take the grandest as your flagship, and who’s to argue?" Jack went on. "But what of the _Pearl_?" He paused for a moment, and took a step toward Barbossa before continuing. "Name me captain. I’ll sail under your colors, I’ll give you ten percent of me plunder, and you’ll get to introduce yourself as _Commodore_ Barbossa. Savvy?"

"And I suppose, in exchange, you’ll be wanting me not to kill the whelp," Barbossa replied, nodding toward Will.

"No, no, not at all," Jack said, waving his arms to illustrate the opposite. "By all means, kill the whelp! Just not yet. Wait to lift the curse until the opportune moment." Jack looked right at Will, and Geneva took note of that. She knew exactly what Jack was trying to do. And yet, she sat there, just letting it happen. It only propelled her forward even faster.

"For instance," Jack went on, grabbing a handful of the coins of Cortes. "After you’ve killed Norrington’s men. Every last one." He dropped the few coins back in as he said it, one by one. Geneva couldn’t contain her smile. She absolutely loved this.

"You’ve been planning this from the beginning!" Will said accusingly. "Ever since you learned my name!"

"Yeah," Jack responded shortly, and Will only stared at him, a look of betrayal on his face. Barbossa sat thoughtfully for a moment, and then uncrossed his arms.

"I want fifty percent of your plunder," he asserted, and Jack turned back to him.

"Fifteen!" Jack countered.

"Forty," Barbossa bargained.

"Twenty-five!" Jack suggested, and Barbossa paused for a moment to consider. "And I’ll buy you the hat. A really big one. Commodore." Barbossa grinned and stuck out his hand towards Jack.

"We have an accord," he said, and he and Jack shook on it. Then, Jack turned and spread his arms out wide, motioning to all the crew before him.

"All hands to the boats!" he declared, and then he caught himself and turned to Barbossa. "Apologies. You give the orders." Barbossa smiled at this correction, and turned toward the congregation.

"Gents," he said, a wicked smile on his face. "Take a walk!" The crew began to head toward the mouth of the cave, and Jack turned back to Barbossa, a confused expression on his face.

"Not to the boats?" he mumbled, and Barbossa shook his head, dismissing Sparrow. Geneva squinted. There were two minds at war in the middle of their accord, and she being the spectator.

After the crew had left, Jack wandered about the cave, inspecting the treasure that he had set out for so long ago. A few of Barbossa’s crew members had remained behind in order to keep Will secured, but Barbossa had retired to sitting at the foot of the chest. Geneva sat atop another pile of gold, watching patiently.

"I must admit, Jack," Barbossa said, looking across the puddle of water at him. "I thought I had you figured. But it turns out you’re a hard man to predict." Geneva looked over at Barbossa. She could agree with that. Out of all the men Geneva had ensnared with her eyes, Jack was the most difficult of all of them to read. His mind was extremely peculiar.

Jack turned from inspecting a statue. "Me, I’m dishonest," he said, tossing the statue aside carelessly. "And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it’s the honest ones you want to watch out for. ‘Cause you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly... _stupid_."

Suddenly, Jack pulled the sword from Twigg’s belt. Twigg made a fuss, and Jack shoved him into the water. Jack tossed the sword to Will before Barbossa could react, and Will broke free of the man holding him.  Geneva sat up quickly, watching. Barbossa jumped to his feet. Jack charged him with his own sword, and a duel broke out. Will began taking on the three crewmen at once.  Geneva smiled comfortably.

Will held up extremely well against three.  Elizabeth had been correct: he did appear to be quite talented.  With three men charging at him, he was able to block and deliver offensive moves in return, as

though he were only fighting one.  Geneva smiled devilishly.  She loved competition. But she was being patient. Her time would come quickly. Will would soon wipe the floor with those imbeciles.

She stood and walked at a leisurely pace toward where Barbossa and Jack had taken their fight to on the other side of the cave, not at all bothered by the sudden surmount of chaos. If anything, it felt harmonious to her, the clamor of sword against sword.

Jack and Barbossa fought each other up the side of the cave. Barbossa shoved Jack backwards, and he stumbled. Barbossa threw his sword aside.

“You can’t beat me, Jack,” he panted, throwing his arms open wide. But Jack was quite determined, and quickly stood.  He brandished his sword and impaled Barbossa with it.  But Barbossa didn’t even flinch, and obviously, that was not the reaction Jack had expected.

Barbossa sighed and looked off, almost bored by the fact that he couldn’t die.  Then, he pulled the sword out of his chest and impaled Jack with it. He sputtered and coughed, and Barbossa smiled evilly at him. He watched as Jack stumbled backward into a patch of moonlight shining down through the cave, and suddenly, Jack turned to bones.

Barbossa’s expression became confused.  Jack lifted his arm to his face and studied himself.  “That’s interesting,” he said, looking himself up and down.  Then, he lifted his other arm, and allowed one of the gold medallions to dance across his fingers.  “I couldn’t resist, mate,” he said, offering a sincere smile.  Barbossa scowled and grabbed his sword off the ground.  Jack pulled his own sword out of

his chest and bolted away from Barbossa, who was in hot pursuit of him.

Geneva could only smile.  Sometimes, Jack could even fool her.  She wasn’t exactly sure why some things slipped from her knowledge, considering that they were supposed to be connected in full, but perhaps it was because Jack had reached some sort of understanding about her hypnosis.  She wasn’t sure why that had anything to do with it, but it appeared that after he realized he had been imprinted on, their connection became weaker, almost selectively.  He certainly was not an easy subject.  But she liked where this was going, so she continued to let things happen.

She looked back across the cave to Will, who was still going at it. The crewmates were making things difficult for him. They wouldn’t die as easily as he’d thought. Geneva’s smile disappeared for a moment. She’d been waiting a while now. She wanted to fight him one-on-one, with no distractions, but clearly, things were beginning to drag out.

Jacoby, the pint-sized crew member who was obsessed with the use of hand grenades, lit a fuze and threw it toward Will, and it exploded, gold shards flying everywhere through the smoke. Will fell backwards and rolled out of the way, and Geneva approached Jacoby from behind, shoving him aside. He rolled down a hill of gold and landed at the bottom, standing up quickly.

“Hey!” Jacoby screeched up at her, upon seeing who it was that shoved him.  “Whose side are you on?!”  She turned toward the twat and her eyes flashed, and he cowered a bit under her gaze.  Then, he thought better of retaliating.

“I’m losing my patience,” Geneva announced, so that Will could hear her. The men continued to attack him, but he shoved them off and caught a glimpse of her as she stood atop a hill of gold.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you, William Turner,” she continued in a spiteful voice as she gazed down at the bumbling idiots who dared to waste her time. Will fought off the men once again, trying to watch her and fight at the same time.  “And I’ve been itching to cross blades with you.” He evaded another attacker and disposed of them for just long enough to reply.

“Who are you?” Will called up to her, and she smiled at him, earning a confused expression.

“Why, I’m your next adversary,” she responded with a chuckle, her grin widening coyly.  “But I prefer man-to-man combat.  So, please, by all means, kill these idiots. They’re wasting my time.”

Will couldn’t pay attention for long, before the men were upon him again, seemingly unable to be killed.  Will fought them off again, and little Jacoby rushed up to him pointing his sword at him.

“I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain!” he howled, and he was about to swing, when another female voice rang out.

“You like pain?” Elizabeth asked, and she swung a huge candelabra at him, hitting him right in the face and knocking him over.  “Try wearing a corset.”

She helped Will up off the ground, and together they began to fight off the three men.  Geneva felt herself smile.  This would be over much faster now.

Suddenly, Barbossa looked over at their fight.

“Lass!” he called to Geneva, and she looked straight at him.  “Spill his blood!”  He was talking about Will.

Geneva’s lips curled into a devilish smile upon hearing her orders. “Gladly,” she replied, saluting him frivolously with her hat before throwing it off into the water. Jack caught a glimpse of her terrifying expression.

“Oh,” Jack murmured with a smile.  “ _That’s_ a mutiny face if I ever saw one.”  Geneva said nothing to refute it, and Barbossa only slashed at Jack in order to silence him.  Jack couldn’t have been more correct though.

Geneva had come to that glorious revelation quite a while ago.  With the crew gone from the cave, there was no need for Barbossa to protect her anymore, and so, there was no need for her to remain loyal.  Their deal served no purpose for her any longer, for it was only a tool by which she could achieve higher status. Her loyalty had complete and utter flexibility now.  She wasn’t about to be his slave if she had any say in it, and at that moment, she did, so she would take that opportunity. All that was left was to break the curse and allow someone else to do the honor of killing Barbossa.  Then, she’d be free and soaring again.

She turned toward Will and Elizabeth, who had finally defeated the remaining men. She locked her eyes on Will, and her hand instinctively went to the hilt of her rapier. She wouldn’t kill him, as Barbossa had ordered. He looked too interesting to kill. This was who she’d been waiting for, all this time. She’d been waiting for a match of skill. Now, that moment had arrived.

She strode toward him, confidence seething from her, her presence taking over the room. Will must have felt it, for Geneva was no mortal: she had that kind of power. He whirled around, brandishing

his own sword, only to find that Geneva was brandishing her own cutlass and Spanish rapier.

“Will!” Jack called out in warning from halfway across the cave. “Don’t let her catch your eye!”  Will offered a look of confusion towards Jack, but then, just as he looked back upon Geneva, her eyes flashed,

and her victorious grin shone bright.  It was too late.

“Let’s see how good you really are,” she snarled at him, both swords at the ready, and Will shoved Elizabeth out of harm’s way and Geneva sprang toward him.  He blocked her blow and jumped backward, but she swung quick and hard.  He tried to predict her form, but she changed it, and he got lost.  She swung at him again and he wasn’t expecting it.  He dodged just barely, but had little time to block her second attack. _She was fast_.

He jumped into the water behind him, and swung to block her attacks. All he could do was block.  He only had one sword. He couldn’t get a swing in at all.  Her face was filled with pure delight, adrenalin

coursing through her veins.  She _loved_ this.

He couldn’t read her form at all.  She swung so wildly, he couldn’t keep up, even though her swings had no predictable order.  She was using techniques he’d never seen before, techniques he’d never even dreamt of.  She slashed at him, and he blocked, and suddenly she pulled back and swung hard, and she’d knocked his sword across the room. Her face lit up and then her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, and she suddenly tossed him her cutlass so that he could continue the duel, and she swung at him hard. Will couldn’t think. Her form was unbelievable.  He couldn’t predict anything she was about to do.  It was confusing him.  He’d never seen any of this before.  One moment, she’d be fighting with Spanish footwork and swinging her sword with an old German technique, and then suddenly, it would change with the next parry.

Then, their swords met, and she caught the hilt of his sword and it flew from his grasp, and he had nothing. He fell to the ground with the stroke, and she stood over him, her own rapier pointed at him.  Her expression displayed bored disappointment.

“You’ve been talked up, Master Turner,” she said monotonously, her eyes narrowed at him.  “And yet, you bore me.  I had expected better from you.”

Suddenly, Elizabeth charged up behind Geneva and wildly swung a sword at her.  Geneva turned around and blocked it easily, shoving her backwards into the water.  Will jumped up, and Geneva pursued Elizabeth into the water.

“Elizabeth!” Will yelled for her, but she was already up and swinging again.

“Go!” she called back to him, and Geneva knocked the sword from her hand and shoved her again.  Elizabeth yelped and fell back into the water, soaking herself completely.

“You’re givin’ me a lot of reasons to kill you, little girl,” Geneva snarled. She didn’t want to. Elizabeth—this woman—she had potential. Geneva saw it. She had every right to stab her through, right then and there, but she couldn’t do that. Not to a woman like Elizabeth. That girl had every chance to truly become great. And Geneva couldn’t thwart that blooming greatness, only in its infancy.

The sea lioness turned around, sword away from the girl below her in the water, and Will was already at the top of the pile where the Chest of Cortes sat. Geneva stopped and lowered her sword, a contentment washing over her.

“Well, if he was plannin’ to spill his own blood from the beginnin’,” she muttered to Elizabeth, a humored smile across her face. “Why did he not tell me and bore me to death instead?” She looked over to where Jack and Barbossa were fighting, and as they neared the same pile, Jack pulled out the medallion that he had stolen from the chest. He placed it firmly in his hand and sliced his skin open on his palm, allowing his blood to soak the gold. Then, he tossed his medallion up to Will. Everything was falling neatly into place.

Barbossa saw it happening and immediately pulled out his pistol, aiming it straight at Elizabeth, who had just stood up out of the water near to Geneva. A shot rang out, and Elizabeth jumped, but it wasn’t Barbossa’s pistol.

Hector turned and looked at Jack, who had his own pistol drawn, smoke rising from the end of the barrel.  He had shot Barbossa right in the chest.

“Ten years you carry that pistol and now you waste your shot,” Barbossa said, smiling at Jack triumphantly.

“He didn’t waste it!” Will called from above on the mound. Everyone looked back up at him. Will had slit his own hand on his father’s medallion as well, and he dropped them both into the chest. The curse had been broken.

Barbossa turned back to Jack, and then pulled open his own jacket. The gunshot wound in his breast was bleeding profusely. He looked up again, and offered a liberated smile.

“I feel...” he whispered, and Geneva winced, a sharp pain emanating from deep within her being. She could stand it, but it startled her some, and she had no time to swallow it before she reacted. It was her connection with Barbossa. He was alive now, and she could feel his pain because of her betrayal of him.

“Cold,” he murmured, and his eyes slowly turned to meet Geneva’s for a brief moment. He was trying to reach for the apple he had stowed away in his jacket, and had just grasped it, but his body gave out, and he collapsed onto the pile of gold behind him, his apple rolling out of his hand, unbitten, unsavored. More pain shot through Geneva’s soul. She couldn’t choke it off like the other types of physical pain. This was deeper. This was what Tia Dalma had bestowed her with. This was her power’s real limit. She had betrayed Barbossa, not objecting to any harm that would come to him, and in doing so, she had indirectly killed him. This was the consequence she had to bear.

Finally, Geneva felt their connection disappear entirely. Barbossa was dead.

The pain went away, and she slowly stood up straight again, recovering. She couldn’t feel too sorry. After all, she wasn’t after Barbossa, but what lay above him.  He had treated her well, but she wasn’t looking to settle, and she had no reservations about stepping over others’ bodies to claim power.

She turned her gaze from Barbossa’s body to Jack, who stood a few feet in front of him.  He looked at her, and put his gun away in his belt.

“I knew you wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Jack said, sauntering toward her, and she put her own sword away. “That’s what you’ve been after all along, you pirate.”

“I suppose ya’ know me rather well, Jack,” Geneva responded, her eyes coy. She turned and retrieved her cutlass from the water, shaking it off to dry it.

“But what of you now, love?” Jack asked, staying near to her. Geneva didn’t look at him, but she kept speaking as she dried her cutlass.

“I was rather hoping you could tell me that,” she cooed, and she let Jack carefully put his arm around her shoulders.

“Well,” he began, flirtatiously, of course. “You’ve got a few options. If you stay here, you’ll be hung for your involvement in piracy. Or, you’ll be jailed at the very least, since you are a woman. But, if you ask for my honest opinion, I don’t think the English would fare too well with the likes of you.”

Geneva turned her head and looked at him out of the corner of her eye with a lovely smile. “Really? Now, where would you get an idea like that?”

“It’s the norm that those who are hung will usually die,” Jack commented. “ _You_ , love, would certainly throw them for a loop.”

“Hm,” she chuckled, and she sheathed her cutlass. “So what do you suggest?” Jack took his arm off her shoulders and stood in front of her.

“I say, you skip the whole bloody mess and head straight for the _Pearl_ with me,” he said. Geneva crossed her arms.

“Oh, I promise it will be interesting, love,” he added. “Did I lie to you last time?” Geneva shook her head and extended her arm.

“You have yourself a deal,” she said, and Jack shook her hand with a grin on his face. He liked where things were headed.

“I’ll just be a moment,” Jack said, hesitantly, looking at all the gold around him. “I haven’t quite had me fill. I waited ten years for these gems.”

“Aye,” Geneva said, a smile on her face. With that, she turned from him and made her way for the mouth of the cave. When she got there, she saw a small rowboat and thought better of it. The Royal Navy was still out there. Besides, she wasn’t exactly depending on Jack for anything.

She jumped in the water and swam the rest of the way out of the cave, and when she got out there, she turned and headed in the direction where the _Pearl_ had been. She saw it slowly letting out the sails, trying to make it away from the chaos on the _Dauntless_ without being seen. The _Black Pearl_ could sneak well in darkness.

Geneva swam hard for it. Luckily, it hadn’t caught the wind yet, and she reached it before it began moving too quickly. She hollered up, and she was hoisted aboard, but not without fuss.

“Who are you?” asked a feisty, dark-skinned woman. She seemed to be running things as they stood.

“Geneva Dalma,” Geneva replied. “Jack Sparrow just recruited me for his crew. I assume this is that crew.” It was the same group that Barbossa’s crew had captured from before and locked in the brig. Somehow, they didn’t recognize her. She hadn’t really dealt with them personally under Barbossa, so that was probably why.

“You’d be correct,” an older man said. “But where’s the captain?” Geneva looked back at the rocky cave.

“Admiring the gold, of course,” she replied, and then she turned back, with a look of seriousness. “But I wouldn’t wait too long. The Royal Navy is recovering quickly from their battle. The curse is broken.”

The crew gasped a bit, but the older man nodded.

“Then we ought to set sail,” he said, and the woman looked at Geneva and then the man.

“But Gibbs!” she exclaimed. “What about her? What’ll we do with the likes of her?” Geneva had guessed wrong. The woman recognized her some, at least for her name, if not because of Barbossa.

The man called Gibbs looked Geneva up and down.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to keep you in the brig for now,” Gibbs said to Geneva sympathetically.  “At least until we see what the captain has to say.”

“The captain may not be having much to say,” Geneva replied, countering his argument.  She did not want to be thrown in the brig. “He has an appointment with the gallows, and the British are known for their punctuality.”

The little crew let out a shocked gasp and looked amongst themselves. Then, Gibbs shook his head.

“We’ll figure out somethin’,” he said reassuringly to everyone. “But for now, you go to the brig.” Gibbs grabbed Geneva by the shoulder, and another man took a hold on her as well and led her down to the brig of the _Pearl_. She made no struggle, but she wasn’t pleased with this. She didn’t like being confined to a cell. But it was all she could do for now, and if Sparrow said it was better than jail, he was probably right.


	18. Chapter 18

From the brig, Geneva really couldn’t navigate at all. Since she couldn’t see the sea or feel the wind, she couldn’t tell what direction the _Pearl_ was traveling in, and thus, she became lost. So, she sat there and scowled in the brig for a few days.

* * *

 

Finally, she could sense Jack Sparrow. As disoriented as she was, she couldn’t receive great visions from him, and so, she really was in the dark. But finally, she could sense him in the vicinity, and she focused on him. He came closer until she could finally receive visions from him. He appeared to be on the ship, and he asked about her. Gibbs told him that she was in the brig. Jack did nothing upon receiving this news, and Geneva scowled once again. She could then feel the ship begin to sail again. She didn’t like where things were headed at all.

* * *

 

Jack had sailed quite some ways out into the ocean. It was about a week’s distance from Port Royal to be precise. There was no land in sight.

Jack looked about for a moment at the open sea around him, and then he turned swiftly to Gibbs.

"Here will be good," he said, and the first mate nodded and went to retrieve Geneva. She had been locked in the brig so that she couldn’t escape and take control of the ship.

Jack had figured that Geneva was too dangerous to be handed over to the authorities. She was far too clever, and she’d easily find a way to escape anyway. But, as charming as she was, she was also much too dangerous to keep on the _Black Pearl_.

Geneva emerged from the hull, a rope tying her hands firmly behind her back. A few of the crewmen led her to the rail, and Jack waltzed down the steps of the quarterdeck and onto the main deck.

" _You_ , love, are going on a special trip," he said, an enthusiastic smile on his face as he walked up to her. Geneva rolled her eyes, not bothering to struggle as the man behind her cut the rope and proceeded to solidly grip her wrists together.

"Oh, am I?" she inquired sarcastically. She really wished she hadn’t trusted Jack so much.

Jack turned and smiled at her. “Yes,” he said eagerly. “You’re going to stay with someone that I don’t associate with, and I tend to avoid at all cost. So, transitively, if _you_ stay with said person, I won’t have to associate with _you_ either. And I don’t like associating with you, so that works out for me double!”

"And who is this _person_?" Geneva asked, not bothering to use any more sarcasm. She was already openly annoyed with him at this point.

"Oh, I bet you’ve heard of him before," Jack mused, and then his voice became low. "His name is Jones. Davy Jones."

A confused look appeared on Geneva’s face. Davy Jones was a sailor’s myth, and to "be lost to Davy Jones’ locker" was to be lost in the depths. Clearly, Jack was implying something else. Before Geneva had a change to question him any further, though, Jack spoke.

"Off you go!" he said cheerfully, hastily shoving her over the rail of the ship. Yelling in shock, she plunged into the water, and surfaced moments later, clearly miffed.

"You can’t just _leave_ me in the middle of the bloomin’ ocean!" she howled after him. Jack only waved at her as the _Pearl_ sailed away.

"Be sure to write!" he called back to her, and that only enraged her more.

"I will kill you!" she roared back, treading water desperately in order to stay afloat. "You will _rue_ the day you see my face again!"

Jack didn’t seem at all fazed, and the Pearl disappeared beyond the darkening horizon, leaving Geneva stranded in the midst of the pitch black ocean.

* * *

 

_To be continued..._


End file.
